


The 'dark empire'

by Mourningstar (skinsuit)



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, No Fandom, Original Fiction - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Feminist fiction, Horror, M/M, Vampires, fantasy fiction, orignal fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/Mourningstar
Summary: Once there was a dark empire that spread over the world like a blight. It had conquered many lands with it's armies of orcs, dark sorcerers and shambling undead horrors. At the head of this empire were a series of evil overlords each more steeped in villainy and blood then the last. Until one day, the scion of a long lost line of kings emerged, aided by the good races of the world he destroyed the evil which had threatened and oppressed for thousand years.At least that's one side of the story....





	1. Chapter 1

It was late at night when the last surviving member of the evil overlordʼs family was brought before the new king Aidian and his truest, closest companions in his council chamber at Baldrock his new castle. By new, of course it was new to him. The council chamber was a fine place, there was plush woven carpet from the lands of the east, marble statues of wolves from the cold land00s to the north, tapestries with battle scenes and romances decorated the wall. The chairs each councilor sat was grand, but Aidian with his open face and beautiful golden hair was in a elaborately carved throne.  
Serafine she was the overlordʼs eldest daughter. Aidian had been hoping she would be pretty. She wasnʼt, She was tall and gaunt with a nose like a hawk, heavily lidded grey eyes and thin lips, her complexion was sallow. Hair was a plain black, pin straight and up in a bun. And she wore a drab grey dress with long sleeves, high collar and two rows of shining black buttons on the breast. She was in chains and there were two guards on either side. Still she held her head high with the arrogance of a princess.  
“As far we know you have done nothing,” Aidian said. “But we will have to imprison you for your own safety.”  
Serafine smiled wryly at this. “For my own protection? And if die I while in your dungeons from disease or neglect, or abuse or insanity. Then the blood is not on your hands.”  
Aidian scowled at her. His mentor and most trusted general Wolfrick also scowled. Wolfrick was old, grey, his face mask of wrinkles and lines, a deep scar a diagonal slash spanned the length of his face. “Donʼt listen to her sheʼs trying to provoke you. You should have her executed sheʼs dangerous.”  
Serafine smiled at this. “Would you have killed my little brother and sisters?”

A look of sorrow passed across Aidianʼs youthful face. “No, of course not. But your Mother killed them. Before taking her own life. We would have shown then mercy and compassion.”  
“My mother knew what a conquererʼs mercy is like.” Serafine said. “Thatʼs why they died.”  
“What she did was evil, the murder of innocence, your family was rotten to the core.” Wolfrick said. “Iʼd 0expect no less from the whore of a tyrant.”  
Serafine closed her eyes and smiled again, her thin lips making it look like a sneer. “Do you call her this because she refused to be your whore? Or so the story goes.”

Wolfrick leapt to his feet and sprang at the chained Serafine.”Iʼll cut your lying tongue from your mouth! Black hearted fiend!”  
The others in the room, Aidian, and the true companions restrained the old wolf and sat him down.  
“Wolfrick friend, calm yourself!” Aidian said. “We destroyed a great evil, the good people of the world shall rejoice with us. This sad, miserable creature is trying to bait you. Bring you down to her level.” And he put a hand on his mentors.  
“Ah, that. You destroyed an empire which lasted a thousand years, with no hiccoughs, no decline. What will the people do now that they have no laws? No jobs? No one to govern them, no one to protect them, will they rejoice at that?” Serafine said.

“The laws of the empire were unjust. The people were oppressed by orcs, trolls and bad men. They will be happy that this dark night is over and the light shines down on them. That their dead rest in the ground and do NOT walk the streets. They will be happy, that the evil has been scrubbed from the land.” Aidian said.  
“He taught you that?” Serafine scoffed, nodding at Wolfrick. “Good and evil are sub- jective. My father while not a kind man, was just to all the peoples of the empire. Men, Orcs and all the others. The dead walked the street to protect the people.”  
Tissit the Elf, fair and swift spoke: “I supose you think itʼs justice to see my people die at the hands of gruesome trolls? To

send soldiers to slaughter us? And take the forests from us.”  
Serafine sighed, she knew she would lose this debate.  
“They are not ʻtrollsʼ they are the walkers of the woods. And you invaded their home, you killed their women and children as the men hunted. They wanted protection so we gave it.”  
Tissit flushed red: “All forests belong to our people! Our Goddess promised us this! We understand the trees! Trolls are an abomi- nation!”  
Aidian shook his head. “Guards, take the prisoner back to her cell.”

And so still in chains Serafine was lead away, down, through to the bowels of the castle to the dungeons. They removed her chains and locked the door behind her she was in darkness. Someone nearby was sobbing. She looked over at the compan- ion in the cell Tiya her bodyguard. Tiya was half orc, her skin had a greenish tint. She was tall, broad shouldered, coarse featured and had long red hair. She wore a leather tunic fastened with metal rivets. She was not sobbing.  
“You spoke didnʼt you?” Tiya said. “Opened that big mouth of yours Mistress and fucked everything up.”  
“If they canʼt debate a topic reasonably, then I have no respect for them.” Serafine said haughtily. “They arenʼt objective at all.”

“Of course not. The young king is the only one who doesnʼt want you dead. You didnʼt give him reason to regret that did you?” Tiya said.  
“No. I just stated my case.” Serafine said.  
“Your case being, that if given a small es- tate, a good knight for a husband and the safety of your bodyguard. You wonʼt cause trouble.” Said Tiya  
“No. I didnʼt.” Serafine said.  
And in conjunction with that the sobbing rose to a keening wail. It was very close.  
“Why not?” Tiya said. “All you need is that. Maybe a library to keep you content.”  
“Because I donʼt want that.” Serafine said. “I donʼt want a soft and easy exile, a boring

drab genteel life. Raising some ʻgoodʼ knightʼs brood and sewing.”  
“You should want it because weʼll be out of here. You wonʼt die. I wonʼt die. We canʼt have what you had before. You canʼt live the life we had before. But you are a no- blewoman they respect that.” Tiya said.  
“What about you friend? Youʼre the daugh- ter of General Harʼrath of the famed blood legion. Your last letter from you mother said the invaders had your estate, your home. And the humans here arenʼt understanding like those of the empire. Will you be happy to live your life a despised half human ser- vant of a deposed princess? Surrounded by bigotry and hatred. Never knowing the fate of your Mother or your younger brother?” Said Serafine.

The sobbing, wailing continued, a backdrop to their conversation.  
“I will. If it means you will have a good peaceful life Mistress. My father is dead, the blood legion was routed. My mother and younger brother probably share his fate. Iʼll see them again in the after life. I will make due if you can be safe.” Tiya said resigned.  
“I will never make due with that life.” Serafine said. “I will never---- Whoʼs snivel- ing. I canʼt think! Make it stop.”  
“Itʼs coming from the cell next door.” Tiya said.  
“Well go on then, tell them to shut up.” Serafine said.  
Tiya banged on the stone wall. “SHUT UP!”  
It stopped for a while. Then a small voice said: “Iʼm going to die tomorrow, theyʼll burn me alive.”  
The voice was male, young and utterly frightened. It sounded familiar.  
“I know you.” Serafine said. “Who are you?”  
“Iʼm Darljin.” he said.  
“The apprentice of Lord Ashfate, the high sorcerer of the empire?” Serafine asked.  
“...Yes....” said the voice.  
“Short, pale, chubby, sweaty, always be- hind a stack of books? Why are they going to burn you tomorrow?” Serafine said.  
“Yes. Wolfrick commanded that all the dark empireʼs sorcerers be burned along with their familiars.” Said Darljin.  
“Canʼt you use you magic to get out?” Serafine said.  
“Uh... no Windtorn Aidianʼs wizard and his pupils have put a curse on the locks so that any one who tries to magic their way out, will die painfully.” Darljin  
“Do you still have that pet? The one that looks like an ugly sort of squirrel with the long fingers---”  
“Yes, but Eekie isnʼt a squirrel heʼs a sort of lemur called an Aye-Aye. He was a gift from to my master from a mage in the east- ern lands.... heʼs going to burn tomorrow too.” Darljin said.  
“---Yes, yes. Thatʼs lovely. Now let me make my point. Can that thing pick locks?” Serafine said.  
“Of course with a bit of metal, but I donʼt have any metal”  
Serafine extracted a hairpin from her bun. “---Tiya, knock the stones from the wall, make a space big enough for my hand to fit through----”  
“----And I donʼt see the point, this place is crawling with guards---” Darljin said.  
Tiya nodded and punched the wall hard, over and over again muttering a chant for strength in Orcish.  
“----Darljin, do you want to burn to death?”  
“--- No, but donʼt I have choice---”  
The stones were loosening, the mortar was crumbling and Tiyaʼs knuckles were bleed- ing. She pulled back her hand and gave it one final punch. The stones fell away. Serafine reached through her hand, it was holding the hairpin.  
“You have a choice now Darljin. Choose life and repay the favor and free us.”  
On the other side of the wall, a clammy fat hand grabbed the hairpin. There the sound

of chittering and knocking noise. The clink and clank of a lock being picked by nimble fingers. Feet on the stones, and then the clink clank of Serafineʼs own lock being picked. The door opened.  
Serafine and Tiya stood face to face with Darljin and Eekie. Darljin a had face that reminded one of a cherub who had feasted on the ambrosia one too many times, and stayed out of the sun. This image was helped by his long curly light brown hair. He wore the heavy, dark, brocaded robes of a sorcerer. They had once been fine, but they were ripped, torn and stained from the latest adventure. On his left shoulder perched Eekie. A small creature with a long snout, small golden eyes, a bald face and enormous ears with tufts of fur on the back. Giving it a look of shock. Eekieʼs coat was black, grey and coarse. Then there were itʼs hands long, black boney and stick thin, the middle digit much longer then the others. There was bit of metal gleaming on itʼs right hand: Serafineʼs hairpin. And to top it off a long black bushy tail like a squirrel.  
“Good now to get out this place.” Serafine said and stepped into the corridor.  
Tiya sighed and followed. “If we had stayed you could use your wits to plead a case for a comfortable exile somewhere.”  
“I donʼt think Wolfrick would allow that. Be- sides our friends here would burn to death tomorrow.” Serafine gestured at Darljin and Eekie.  
Darljinʼs face was red and still bore the traces of recent tears.

They began to walk down the corridor it was dim lit by torches. The doors of the other cells were metal with a small barred window in the front.  
“Can you use your magic to get us out of here?” Serafine asked.  
“I could, if the blasted Windtorn hadnʼt placed an enchantment over the dun- geons.” Sniffled Darljin.  
“You are useless. I liked Ashfateʼs other ap- prentice better.” Serafine said rolling her eyes. “He would have thought of a way around it.”  
“Mistress, that apprentice went mad, mas- sacred a village and had to be locked away.” Tiya said.  
“Yes. Well he was awfully clever. Pity about the mass slaughter.” Serafine sighed. “I suppose we have to rely on my wits and your strength to get us out of here.”  
“My Master had another apprentice?” asked Darljin.  
“Your Master was in his early hundreds. Of course he had another apprentice. You donʼt think he waited until then to take just you on.” Serafine said. “And I liked Ga-”  
“SSSSSHHHHhhhhh!” Tiya hissed. “We never speak that name, lest we invoke him.”  
“Oh, yes.” Serafine said “Forgot that about magical types. You still have your birth name right?”  
“Ermmm yes.” said Darljin. “No title, I wasnʼt that far along.”  
“How old are you?” Serafine said squinting at him.  
“Well I spent seven years at the academy and three years training with my Master.” Said Darljin.  
Serafine looked him over head to toe. “Six- teen then.”  
“Yes, how did you----?” Asked Darljin.  
“Easy really. You must have been a prodigy so you entered the academy at seven. Trained their for seven years. Got high marks, and Ashfate was looking for some- one with intelligence and noticed your pro- gress. So you became his apprentice at fourteen you still have your birth name, which would have discarded in your fourth year of apprenticeship. And no beard.” Serafine rattled off.  
“I donʼt like wearing a beard.” Darljin said.  
“No. All male sorcerers like some sort of facial fur. You just canʼt grow one yet. Your young face and squeaky voice betray you.” Serafine said.  
Tiya sighed and rolled her eyes. “If you are done being extra clever Mistress, there is guard at the end of passage. How are we going to deal with him?”  
Serafine stared at the guard for a moment. He was skinny, not wearing armor and slumped against the wall. She grinned her sneering grin. “Easily. This wing is for sor- cerers and political prisoners, soft types.  
Heʼs young, alone, inexperienced, bored and very tired.” She whispered.  
And then she explained her plan. Tiya nod- ded. Darljin looked scared. Eekie tapped his fingers, he was looking for maggots.  
The young guard blinked trying to chase off sleep. He closed his eyes longer then he should. He felt a large rough hand over his mouth and on the left hand side of his neck.  
“If you try and cry out, or make any move. I will snap your neck instantly,” Tiya whis- pered in his ears. “Nod yes if you under- stand.”  
The guard nodded yes.Serafine hove into the guardʼs view. She spoke in a calm soft voice. “Now lay down all your weapons, money and food if you want to live.”

The guard nodded and still in Tiyaʼs murderous embrace he put down a crossbow with bolts, a sword,and a dagger. He undid the strings of his purse and put that down and a small leather sack containing half a loaf of bread, cheese and an apple.  
Darljin looked in the sack “Eeew, itʼs blue cheese.”  
“Would you prefer to starve?” Serafine asked.  
“No.” Darljin said.  
Serafine took the sack, the purse and the weapons.She broke the bread into three pieces, did likewise with the cheese and handed the apple to Eekie. She kept the purse, the crossbow, the dagger and gave Tiya the sword.

Tiya gripped the sword and gave a snort of contempt. “Itʼs crude and dull.”  
“So is most of your race, but I donʼt com- plain about them.” Serafine said.  
“Why donʼt I get weapons?” Darljin whined..  
“You know magic, and besides youʼd most likely hurt yourself.” Tiya said. “Most sor- cerers donʼt know which end to stick in the enemy.”  
Serafine nodded.  
Eekie was poking the apple with his long middle finger, biting it and then finally eating it. Serafine placed the bolt in the crossbow and aimed it at the guardʼs head.

“Iʼm a excellent shot, I will kill you if need be.” She said.  
Tiya removed her hand from the guardʼs neck and poked the sword at his back. Serafine spun on her heel and they began to walk onward and downward into the depths of the dungeon.  
“Where are we going?” asked Darljin. “Usu- ally escaping a place doesnʼt mean going further in.”  
“It does this time.” Serafine said.  
They turned down a dark spiral staircase. Serafine at the front, the guard after her, Tiya was next, Darljin and Eekie last.  
At the end of the staircase was a stone archway It had a crude carving of a skull and bones over it. Under this was carved an inscription: ʻNihil tam pulchrum ut tumulo latet’  
Coming from the archway was a powerful stench of decay and must. Darljin looked at the inscription and read it out loud translat- ing: “Nothing is so beautiful that it escapes the tomb.’ These are the catacombs aren’t they?”  
“I thought that much was obvious,” Serafine said. “Tiya grab a torch.”  
Tiya nodded and did so.  
“How did you know where they were?” Darl- jin said.  
“My father had a wide and vast network of spies. Also a map of Baldrock and it’s sur- rounding city. I studied it.” Serafine said.  
“The only person who spends more time in the library then my Mistress is my brother,” sighed Tiya.  
“They burnt the library. A thousand years of accumulated knowledge, gone to ashes.” Serafine said softly, a hint of some sadness creeping into her voice. Then straightening up and biting her lip. “Oh well.”  
And they entered the catacombs. The final resting place for most of the cities inhabi- tants were vertical rows of carved stone shelves in narrow, dark passageways where rats ran. If they were lucky. There bigger rooms with piles upon piles of skulls, rib cages, femurs and the like all sorted neatly and separately. A deterrent to enter- prising necromancers. The bodies in this part were old, some skeletons in tattered rags, some musty, and mummified all coated with cobwebs.  
“Examine the shelves.” Serafine whispered. “Look a corpse that’s to fresh to be here. A dark handsome youth in impeccable dress, or failing that a small girl with brown hair and old plague sores on her face.”  
“Why?” asked Tiya.  
Serafine smiled. There was shadow moving behind them.  
“What was that?!” Darljin said jumping.  
“Come now, a sorcerer like yourself must be well versed in necromancy. The dead don’t scare you.” Serafine said.  
“It’s more that something living might be here and not friendly.” Darljin said.  
Tiya shone the light on shelf after shelf of dead, as they moved at a snail’s pace  
through the catacombs. Serafine examining the shelves. Finally resting on middle shelf was the fresh, pale corpse of little girl no older then five years old. Her hair was brown and on her face old bloodless scabs, marks of the plague. Tiya shone the light in her face. Suddenly, the girl’s pale eyes popped open. So did her fanged mouth. She gave a hiss and leapt from the shelf. Her fangs barred, hands up.  
“Who are you!?” Cried the little girl. “What are you doing in our home?!”  
“I am high princess Serafine Atra-Nefari, that is Tiya daughter of Har’rath, Darljin and I don’t care about the guard’s name. And you are Lilibell otherwise known as Little one, and Petite Mort. And one of my fa-ther’s most trusted spies. Now where is your brother Vitrent?” Serafine said.   
“Behind you.” Drawled a smooth, bored, male voice with a slight hint of a lower class accent.  
The party spun around. On a high shelf lounged a black haired youth, he was pale as his sister, slender, very handsome with high arching eyebrows, cold green eyes, and cheek bones so sharp you could slice and dice with them and full lips. He was dressed to the nines in the finest pilfered grave clothes: a black velvet cloak, crimson silk slashed doublet with black breeches crimson hose and black leather boots. His person gleamed with silver jew- elry he personally pried off of stiff cold bod- ies. It had been all very stylish a century ago.  
Darljin stared at him for a long time then shaking his head sadly turned away. Serafine smiled. Vitrent smiled back wickedly displaying long pointed fangs.  
30 Vitrent leapt down from his shelf. He walked very close to Serafine, his perfect pale nose, almost touching her beaky one. She smiled. He smiled wider and chuckled darkly. Tiya griped the sword and torch hard. Vitrent took a step backwards and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder protectively.  
“You two were my father’s most trusted agents in the city.” Serafine said. “Guide us through the catacombs and out into the city.”  
“Why?” asked Lilibell. “The empire is gone. Your father is dead. There will be no more gold for us.”  
“Well put Little one,” Vitrent said, stroking his sister’s hair. “What is to stop us sucking all of you dry and leaving your bodies for the rats?”  
“The guard.” Serafine said. “Feed on him, he is our payment.”  
The guard looked alarmed, and attempted to take a step backwards, walking into Tiya’s sword point.  
“Just one skinny human? For the two of us?” Lilibell sneered.  
“Your both very pale,” Observed Serafine.  
“Well, yes we vampires.” Vitrent said rolling his eyes.  
“No, I mean you haven’t hunted. Haven’t fed properly in two weeks. I’d say as long the Aidian’s new curfew has been in place. There are no people out after dark. And you know rats and the moggies that hunt here aren’t proper meals.” said Serafine.

“True.” Nodded Vitrent. “We are thirsty. And why we should accept a mere goblet, so to speak when a barrel of wine is before us ready for the tapping?”  
Lilibell licked her lips and gazed intently up at the collected throats of the party.  
“Because Wolfrick hates you, Aidian hates you, the whole kingdom hates you. You think that you will survive this. They KNOW you are down here. They are waiting. They will come with stakes and fire and wipe all of you out. Help us, and we will protect you.” Serafine said.  
“I don’t care for your false promises. I’m hungry!” Lilibell screamed and fangs barred sprang at Serafine.  
Quick as blur, Tiya took out her dagger and  
stabbed the little fiend through the heart, pinning her to the wall, feet dangling. Lilibell kicked, flailed, hissed and snapped her fangs. Tiya stepped away from the guard, she imposed herself and her flaming torch between her mistress and the child vam- pire. Vitrent ran to his sister and reached for the dagger. Tiya waved the torch and instinctively he shrank away.  
“I’m five times stronger then a human child. Once this dagger is out. I’ll murder you!” Screamed Lilibell.  
“I’m half orc ten times stronger then a grown human and I have fire.” Tiya said. “You’ll be a small screeching fireball, then cinders, before you reach my mistress.”  
Serafine sighed. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Threats. Again. I really prefer to ne- gotiate without them. Also Darljin stop the guard.”  
“I did.” Darljin said.  
“Jolly good what magic did you use?” Serafine asked.  
“Errr.... well no magic. I wet myself and he slipped on the.... puddle... and hit his head on the floor.” Darljin said.  
“That’s.... lovely...” Serafine said bitingly. “Now on to the threats.” She turned her icy grey gaze at the flailing Lilibell and quivering Vitrent. “I know you ‘saved’ your be- loved your little sister on her deathbed from a nasty plague. You want to her burn to ashes before your eyes?”  
“No... No.... please... no...” Vitrent sput- tered.  
Serafine nodded. Tiya stepped away, re- moving the dagger with a disgusting  
squelching sound. Lilibell dropped to her feet and ran into her brother’s arms. They clutched each other, for a few moments. It was almost tender.  
Tiya handed the dagger to her Mistress who examined it then wiped it on her sleeve and tucked it in said sleeve.Darljin and Eekie huddled close. Eekie burying his strange face in Darljin’s hair.  
“What about the guard?” asked Tiya.  
“They are hungry and we can’t let him live can we?” Serafine said.  
“Nope of course not.” Darljin sighed.  
Vitrent and Lilibell unclasped they sidled around the party to the unconscious guard. They bent down over his neck. Darljin winced. Tiya frowned. Serafine watched with avid fascination hand tucked under her  
chin. When it was over, the two vampires rose to their feet. There was color in Vit- rent’s face, Lilibell’s sores looked fresher and redder.  
“Fine.” Vitrent said.  
“We will guide you through the catacombs.” Lilibell said.  
“As far as we can,” Vitrent said.  
“And what does that mean?” Asked Serafine raising an eyebrow.  
“Whatever it means I don’t like the sound of it.” Tiya said.  
They didn’t talk as the walked through the snaking, stinking passages. The two vam- pires walked ahead of them. Then stopped at a fork in the catacombs.

“This is where we leave you.” Vitrent said. “If you go to the right you will emerge into the city. The left is a dead end. However----”  
“---No don’t tell them,” Lilibell said, looking down at the still gaping hole in her chest.  
“What?” Tiya said. “What are you hiding?”  
“Other vampires, I’d guess.” Serafine said.  
Lilibell smiled and Vitrent clapped slowly. “Bravo. You are as clever as they say.'   
“So? You two come with us, and tell them to leave us alone.” Darljin said.  
“You don’t know much about vampirism do you?” Serafine sighed.  
“No we were still on zombies when.... my apprenticeship ended.” Darljin said.

“There are two types. The more known type, like our guides who keep their souls and minds intact. Then there is the other kind which lose both. And become raven- ous beasts. There is another distinction be- tween the two types. The human like ones are made by other vampires before the soul leaves the body. The animal like ones are made afterwards. Not even vampires can tell when the soul has left.And those types they are inhabit this part of the catacomb. Don’t they?” Serafine said.  
“Yes.” Vitrent said. “And they will attack us.”  
Serafine blinked and then took a step for- ward into the right fork. Tiya shrugged and followed. Darljin stared, rooted to the spot.  
“Are you coming?” called Serafine.

“Err, yes.” Darljin said and hurried forward. “Aren’t you worried?”  
“I am.” Tiya said. “But the Mistress has her funny little ways.”  
Serafine stopped and turned around. “This isn’t an eccentricity. This sense. If they are like beasts, then we have nothing to fear. Even the lion runs from a well armed group of people. We have fire, a sword and magic. They will be frightened. We are safer here, then when we were with Vitrent and his sis- ter.”  
“Oh, that’s logical.” Darljin said brightening.  
“Let’s hope the vampires are logical as well.” Tiya muttered.

The corpses here were fresher, there was the perfume of rotting flesh. Eekie was the only one enjoying himself. After days living on gruel, an an apple. He crawled up and down the walls, taping on the corpses and biting out fat maggots from them. Then suddenly he stiffened and ran back onto Darljin shoulder, shivering with fear. Ahead was a crouching figure. It had been a woman once. She was stark naked, her skin was white and waxen. She had masses of stringy, matted blonde hair. She saw them: hissed, showed her fangs, when they got closer her mad eyes widened, she screamed and ran away.  
“See?” Serafine said.  
They walked along for a few more minutes. There was scuttling behind them. But when they looked nothing was there. The woman came back another, a ragged 

pointed at them. But when party took a step towards them the two vampires ran screeching. There was more scuttling be- hind them and giggling. Tiya and Darljin did not like the giggling.  
“You know I read somewhere. That ba- boons can figure out odds.” Darljin said. “They are monkeys and not that smart but they know when someone is out numbered. Do you think that these things are that smart?”  
Serafine didn’t answer, neither did Tiya. The woman and the ragged man came back with a third: a red haired maiden with a slash across her throat. Tiya waved her torch at them and they scampered.  
The scuttling got closer. They turned in time to see a troupe of children, some had the marks of plague on them as Lilibell did. One little boy giggled madly as his head flopped like doll’s on a limp neck, he looked no older then six. There were toddlers, with vacant eyes and pasty plump cheeks, in the front a fat baby crawled along devoid of rosy cheeks, fangs poking out of a toothless maw. It looked more like a large maggot. The adult vampires came back with two more. The party back against the wall. They were surrounded on all sides by mad, snarling mouths and grasping hands.  
Tiya swung out with her sword and torch. She took two heads in one swing. She set fire to another, it blundered away shrieking inhumanly. The grasping hands pulled at her, mouths bit. She slash at them and they took a step backwards out of reach. The undead baby was attempting to latch on to one of Darljin’s legs.  
“We have to get out of here, I won’t die like this.” Serafine said.  
“I don’t know if we have the choice,” Tiya said knocking away another vampire.  
“I have a plan,” Serafine said. “Tiya give me the torch and clear a path with your sword,” Tiya handed the torch to her Mistress. “Darljin, stop soiling yourself and give us a fire ball on my signal.”  
“I don’t know if I can,” Whimpered Darljin.  
“What? Top of your class, Ashfate’s appren- tice and you can’t make a fireball?” Serafine asked.  
“No, the other one,” Darljin said giving the baby a kick.  
Serafine sighed, she took a breath. “NOW! NOW! NOW!”  
Serafine lunged forward and set the nearest vampire alight. It flailed away shrieking,  
Tiya slashed heads off. The party ran for- ward. Darljin muttered the words of the an- cient spell. His palms began to glow. The vampires were behind them. The glow in his palms grew, it became a flickering or- ange flame and then a softly glowing ball of light. Then with the final word it roared and became a huge ball of flame. Darljin shoved towards the vampires. Soon the tunnel was illuminated by flaming, scream- ing, hissing vampires. The vampire baby crawled faster blackening and smoking as it cried.  
Darljin looked back a grin spreading on his face. “I did it! I actually did it! That was my first time, I can’t believe I---”  
“Wonderful.” Serafine barked. “Let’s go, before we turn into crispy critters as well.”  
They ran on and on through the stinking, dark, catacombs. Until they were met by a  
door, there was crack of light seeping out of it. Tiya rammed her side into the door and it opened. They found themselves at the foot of a hill, in alley surrounded by tall dark buildings. Dawn was breaking over the city. Eekie curled up on Darljin’s shoulder and went to sleep.  
“Now for the second part of my plan,” Serafine whispered.  
“No,” Tiya said. “Now we eat and rest.” “Fine.” Serafine sighed.  
And in the darkness of the alley way they laid down, ate. And huddled close and slept.  
Serafine dreamed.Suddenly she was back in the ante chamber of Synex castle, her home. She knew she couldn’t be here, because the castle  
she had watched it. Tiya was there standing at attention with a clump of other orcs at the far corner of the room. She was about to ask what was going on, when a deep, plummy rich male voice arrested her in her in her step. It was her father’s voice.  
“---Really Elspeth old thing, you mustn’t worry so much,” He was saying.  
Serafine turned again. Standing there was her father: dark with a nose like hers, black hair that was grey at the temples, black goatee and a slight paunch from being over forty. He was being dressed in the Black shining ‘blood armor’ by some servants. The woman Elspeth: pale, tall, blonde and beautiful was her mother, she wore that long flowing silver gown. Serafine’s jaw dropped slightly.  
“But really Fitz darling, single combat? You aren’t so young anymore. Was it wise to take this Aidian’s challenge?” Her mother was saying.  
“Pah! He’s nothing but a jumped up peas- ant! And I’m wearing this armor Ashfate en- chanted---” Her Father was saying.  
A bloodied and exhausted solider ran in. “My Lord,” The solider ripped off a quick sa- lute. “Three more of our legions have been defeated.”  
“WHAT?! HOW?!” Her Father roared clenching his fist.  
And Serafine knew where and when she was. There was sinking feeling in her heart.  
“I d-d--don’t know now, my Lord.” said the soldier.

“All the more reason to face this boy in single combat, once I defeat him his forces will stumble and fail.” Father said.  
“But the children, do they have to see it?” asked Mother.  
And Serafine turned again There was Mil- lia, Argent, and Gregor. Her little sisters and brother. Millia was nine and took after her mother, Argent was six, dark haired, hazel eyed, and Gregor with his jet black hair like his father he was only three.  
“Why not it will be valuable lesson to them. Besides our Finy is old enough, aren’t you owl?” Father was addressing her with her pet names.  
She couldn’t speak, she wanted to tell him how she wanted to tell him to warn him!

“Papa, are we going to see you kill the bad man?” Asked Argent.  
“Yes Darling.” Her Father said.  
“Goodie! Afterward we can parade his head around the city and there will be parade. I love parades!” Argent said.  
“I want a pa’raid,” Said Gregor.  
“I want to sit next to Finy durning the pa- rade, Argent always hogs the carriage seat.” Millia said.  
Serafine turned her head away. And sud- denly she was sitting in the marble seat of the castle’s private arena. It was very white place, the sand was white, the seats that ringed it white as bone. On the other side sat the compatriots of Aidian: humans, elves and dwarves. There was a beautiful elven woman, rumored to be Aidian’s be-trothed. The wizard Windtorn, was not there, he was having his own private fight with Ashfate. Aidian entered. He was far younger then Serafine had heard. He was handsome in a bland, wholesome way. He wore armor that shone like the sun it’s self. Her father entered. The blood armor glim- mered darkly with black and red reflections. He also wore a heavy black fur cape. In it he was looked taller and was transformed into a fearsome object. The combatants nodded to each other solemnly then the drew swords. Like Aidian himself, his sword glittered with a supernatural light. Her fa- ther’s sword was thunderbolt steel and full of dark menace. At first Father had the ad- vantage his thrusts and swings made Aid- ian parry and step away. He made many cutting and witty remarks. Then the clouds parted the sun shone down on Aidian and Father was momentarily blinded. That mo- ment was all Aidian needed. He thrust for- ward pressing his attack hard. The swords clanged and clashed. Father was now the one dodging and parrying. There was awful ripping sound. The magical shield around Father’s armor had been penetrated. This had a strange effect, Father fought more desperately. Trying to skewer Aidian, at- tempting to slash, to hack off a limb. But the youth was to quick. And horribly jarringly, Aidian took his sword and plunged it through Father’s neck. There was a look of horror and surprise on Father’s dying face. And then there was the gout of Father’s blood that poured onto the sand staining it red. The spectators from the other side of the arena cheered. And her little sisters be- gan to cry and wail.  
Once again with the logic of dreams, Serafine found herself in different location. It was a small beautiful room, where rich tapestries lined the wall. There was fire burning in the fireplace. There was window that looked over the mountains. And finely crafted furniture was barricaded against the door. It was her mother’s bower. Her little sisters and brother were crying.  
“Is Papa goin’ to be alright?” Gregor asked through his tears.  
There was a pounding and lewd shouts coming through the door. Tiya was standing nearby.  
“Darling Papa’s in the afterlife now,’ Mother said.  
“Oh tell him to come back and get the bad men,” Gregor said.  
“Don’t worry my Darlings, everything will be fine,” Mother said her voice deadly calm. She went to her little children and held them. “Serafine play ‘flowers of love’ on the harp would you? It will sooth them.”  
Serafine went to the great harp in the corner of the room and began to pluck the strings. The sweet melody poured out.  
“Mummy what’s going to happen?” asked Argent her voice quavering.  
“Nothing, everything will be fine. Here, let’s all have some of this berry cordial and listen to your sister play.” Mother said, she took a glass gilded pitcher off a shelf along with three goblets of the same. She poured in a red cordial in each. And then while the little ones watched Serafine play the harp. She removed a small vial from her sleeve and poured a few drops of it’s contents in each goblet.  
The pounding at the was louder, the shouts more vulgar.  
Mother handed the goblets to each child. “This smells funny,” said Millia.  
“It’s nothing my sweet, just drink it, it’ll make everything better.” Mother said, calm and soothing.  
So each child drank the cordial and Serafine played. She played as they began to shake, scream and vomit green bile. She kept playing as each of her sibling’s bodies stopped shaking, stopped scream- ing, and moved no more. Their lips were stained green, their eyes rolled into their heads.  
The door burst open, the soldiers of the en- emy stood in the doorway. Tiya sprang in front of Serafine.  
“I will defend both of you,” Tiya said.  
“No need,” Mother said. There were tears in her eyes. Wolfrick stood in the door way glaring at them his sword bloodied and raised. Mother sat down in the naked win- dowsill and tipping forward, she fell. The castle was on high cliff it was a long way down. Serafine was now looking down out the window at her mother’s crumbled form far below. Her silver gown swirling around her body a pool of blood.  
Serafine sprang awake. Her heart pounding, a faint cry on her lips. She looked around. She was in an alley. Darljin was curled up with Eekie resting on his head. Tiya was also awake by her side. Tiya put a hand on Serafine’s arm.  
“Are you alright Mistress?” asked Tiya.  
In a moment Serafine regained her composure. Once more she was cool and calm.  
“Fine it was just a dream. Wake up Darljin, we have work to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was late at night when Wolfrick strode into Aidian’s bed chamber. Aidian was sleeping in his large four poster. Wolfrick went to his side and shook him awake. Aidian was still in his night shirt.  
Blearily Aidian opened his eyes. “Wolfrick, friend what’s going on?”  
“The princess and her bodyguard have es- caped. They took with them the dark sorcerer’s apprentice. Sire.” Wolfrick said.  
“Oh, why do you think they did?” Aidian said.  
“To foment rebellion and undermine your rule,” Wolfrick said. “Only reason.”  
“Really?” Aidian asked. He looked at Wolfrick’s sober stoney face. “If you say so. You know about these things. Maybe it was wrong to grant them so much mercy.”  
“It was.” Wolfrick said. “With your permission me and my battalion will hunt them down.”  
“Yes, alright.” sighed Aidian.  
Wolfrick turned to go. “Just one thing Old Wolf, bring the princess back alive. She’s just a woman.”  
“If you insist, Sire. I will try.” grunted Wolfrick and left.  
It was almost high noon when Tiya poked her head from the alley way.  
“What am I looking for?” She asked.  
“A troupe of beggars,” said Serafine. “They’ll be going to the execution.”  
Tiya watched as soon as raggedy as bunch of beggars that ever hobbled down the street, came into view she signaled to Serafine. Serafine nodded to Darljin and they stepped out in front of the beggars.  
“Wot you want?” asked a scruffy beggar.  
“We want your clothes and your begging bowls” Serafine said.  
“Why?” asked another toothless beggar.  
“Because we do, I’ll pay you well for your begging clothes.” Serafine said jingling the purse of gold. “and we’ll give our clothes, you can pawn them.”  
“Alroight,”said the scruffy beggar grinning.  
“Wait.” ordered Serafine. She looked at the others and nodded. They went back into the darkness of the alley.  
“Why should we?” called the beggar.  
“You want the money, right?” called Serafine back.  
“What do you want us to do?” Darljin asked.  
“Simple, strip down your underclothes.” Serafine said.  
“But your girls!” Darljin said blushing.  
“We promise we won’t look,” Serafine said.  
“That goes for you too. If you look at us and become inflamed with lust. Control yourself, or I’ll cut you.” Tiya said.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” murmured Darljin.  
So with mutual backs to the wall they stripped down to skivvies. Underneath her grey gown Serafine wore long white petti- coats and a plain white corset. Tiya was in a simple white shift. And Darljin was in stained and greying shorts His pale hairless belly hanging over the top. Eekie had set- tled on on his shoulder, and curled into a ball.Each carried their former clothes in a pile. Serafine had folded hers.  
When they got to the entry of the alley, there was pile of rags and begging cowls. Three beggars stood in their stinking, torn underclothes. Serafine handed the money and clothes around to the beggars. She also acquired three wooden begging bowls.  
The beggars went off puzzled but richer.  
Back in the alley, they sorted through the rags and cowls and they dressed. Darljin kept Eekie under his cloak, still perched on his shoulder.  
“Hmmmm, with him on your shoulder like that it looks like you have some sort of tu- mor.” Said Serafine.  
“Oh lovely.” Darljin said.  
Tiya was wrapping rags around her legs and feet. They picked up the begging bowls.  
“Now give me a moment,” Serafine said and cleared her throat. When she spoke again her voice was higher the accent grew broader. “Wot cheer my friends, let’s go to the burnin and beg us some supper.”

“That sounds real authentic Mistress,” Tiya said dripping with sarcasm.  
“You both will be dumb and mute beggars then,” Serafine continued in the horrible lower class accent.  
“Do we have to go to the burning?” asked Darljin.  
“Oh yes, the ‘hole city will be there, it’ll look right funny if we don’t turn up.” Serafine said, still talking like street sparrow in a bad play. “You know any songs we can sing as we walk down the streets?”  
“Beggars don’t sing,” Hissed Tiya. “That’s minstrels or mummers.”  
There was large wide square in the center of the city. It was filled with wooden stakes, faggots and the condemned. The citizens of the city ringed it, there was atmosphere of abcarnival or fair. There were men selling all sorts of hot, quick food, men selling wood- cuts, men selling toys and troupes of mummers doing tricks. And there were hordes of beggars real ones.  
Serafine shook her empty bowl and in- quired in her horrible accent to some richly dressed merchants: “Spare some coin for me and my poor dumb brother and sister?”  
“Ah yes,” Said on of the merchant and reached into his purse. He tossed some coins in their bowls.  
“Ta,” said Serafine. “You’re a right toff!”  
There were guards tying up the sorcerers and their familiars to the poles.  
“Why can’t they use magic to get out of this?” whispered Tiya.  
“Windtorn and his followers put powerful counter spells all over the square” Darljin whispered back. “And besides no one has their staff or books.”  
“Shut up!” hissed Serafine. “You aren’t sup- posed to talk!”  
Some did attempt magic, but they ended screaming as their hands turned black, ne- crotic, and fell off. The crowd would laugh and jeer. And the guards would say nothing but tie them tighter. There must have been over a hundred piles of faggots, each with pole a top it, and an ‘evil’ sorcerer con- demned to burn. The academy students weren’t spared for their youth. There was one girl who held her cat against her shoul- der and cried into its fur as the guards adjusted the rope about her.

On a platform at the end of the square stood Aidian and Windtorn, the wizard in his plain beige robes, long grey beard and pointed hat. Aidian gave a speech about the great evil that was being destroyed to- day. Windtorn also gave a speech one about the wicked corrupting nature of black magic. And then he took his staff, which looked like nothing more then a stick of drift wood and spoke one word. In a blaze the pyres all ignited at once. The crowd gave a cry of awe.There was a horrible smell of burning flesh and hair, terrible cries of agony and wailing as they burned. And the people watched, they laughed and made rude comments. There were tears in Darljin’s eyes. His friends, lovers, rivals, teachers, and ene- mies all burned. The magic he practiced only a hair’s breath of difference from that of Windtorn was being destroyed. Everyone he had known was screaming, burning, dy- ing in the flames. And the crowd was laughing. He lowered his face. The crowd stayed until the twilight when the pyres were nothing but embers and the condemned nothing but charred skeletons. Darljin had wept out his sadness, his anger and his helpless ness.

“There was nothing... nothing... I could do... I watched them burn. I watched them all burn.” Darljin said again and again as they walked into the twilight.  
His face was red and puffy from crying, his blue eyes glistened with tears.  
“Did you see Ashfate die, from what I heard his end was pretty horrible,” Tiya said.  
“No, he ordered me to get away. I was in his study hiding behind a curtain when the soldiers found me.” Darljin said.

Serafine stared at both of them. When she spoke it was in her normal voice.“Come on let’s go the beggars quarter. I know where we can spend the night.”  
On the way out of the city Serafine stopped and bought some vegetables, eggs, sausages and fruit from the money she had earned begging.  
The beggars quarter was on the outskirts of the city just outside the ‘real’ walled part of the city. It was a long walk. It was city it’s self. A city of flimsy wooden shacks made from whatever scraps of wood the occupant could steal or find. And tents of ragged cloth tarps. It was technically illegal. But that didn’t stop it from existing.  
As they walked down avenues of dirt, passed ragged children playing, chickens pecking, men and women drinking. Serafine stopped a passerby.

She spoke in her street sparrow voice: “Where does Old Aggie live?”  
“Wot you want with her? She’s mad as spoon and a stinking whore!” said the pas- serby.  
“She owes me,” Serafine said.  
“Two streets down, last one on the right, you can’t miss it it has a blue door. But you won’t get no joy from her.” said the pas- serby.  
“Ta,” Serafine said.  
They traveled as they directed. Finally com- ing to a tumble down wooden shack with a bright blue door. Serafine knocked on the door.

“GO AWAY!” came the call from inside in harsh cracked voice.  
“Agnathea let us in, we need a place to sleep for the night,” Serafine said, totally dropping the street sparrow voice.  
“GO AWAY! Old Aggie doesn’t want you!” came the reply  
“I’m a friend Aggie, and besides I have food.” Serafine said.  
The door opened Old Aggie stood there a frail, old goblin like woman with a cloud of filthy whitish-grey hair. She wore a stained, tattered blue dress. In her left hand she held a flask. She took a swig of it.  
“Food? You got food?” Aggie said.   
“Yes.” Serafine said.

“Come in, Come in,” Aggie said and waved them inside.  
There was a hearth of sorts with a fire burning in it. There was crude table and some chairs that had the look of being stolen from a rubbish heap. There was pile of blankets and rags that must serve as bed. Old Aggie took the food from Serafine. She took a pan off the wall and began to cook up the food.  
Old Aggie looked at them and began to cackle madly.  
“What’s so funny?” asked Tiya narrowing her eyes.  
“Fitzcaius’s daughter and her people here with Old Aggie!” Aggie laughed.  
“Yes, I am. You helped my father so much and we helped you.” Said Serafine.

“Oh he was a gentleman your father! Not like Old Aggie’s children! Ungrateful they are. Old Aggie’s daughters? Stuck up little madams! Won’t give Old Aggie nothing! Old Aggie’s stepchildren? They turned out Old Aggie out left Old Aggie to die on the street! And worse Gort Old Aggie’s only son, he’s so high and mighty now! But does he help Old Aggie? Does he?! No.When Old Aggie sold herself to feed him when he was lad! Ungrateful!” said Aggie  
“I’m surprised to find you like this we gave you a monthly allowance you should have a better place.” Serafine said.  
“Old Aggie, has wandering wits. Old Aggie has a terrible thirst. Old Aggie has to drink so Old Aggie doesn’t weep. As soon Old Aggie’s husband died. Old Aggie’s stepchildren turned her out!” said Aggie.

"Why does she talk in third person?” asked Darljin.  
“She’s mad, it’s something mad people do.” Shrugged Tiya.  
“Poor Old Aggie,” Aggie said and took a swig from the flask. “He doesn’t call himself Gort no more... Oh no, to common for him! The name Old Aggie gave him, his own Mother! Who he doesn’t lift a finger to help!”  
Old Aggie ranted as she cooked. She ranted as they ate. And she ranted as she gave them blankets and rags to sleep un- der. Mostly about her ungrateful children and how she had to sell herself to provide for them. She took a large swig form her flask and finally passed out in her pile of rags. Eekie was up he was tapping on the walls of the shack, extracting grubs from the wood and eating them happily.  
So they slept again. Durning the night Darl- jin couldn’t sleep it could be the old woman’s snoring or Eekie’s tapping. And just as he drifted off. A scream ripped the air. He opened his eyes to see Serafine sit- ting bolt upright, her head turning around the room, her eyes wide her breathing heavy. Tiya had gotten up as well. She took her Mistress by the shoulders and whis- pered something to her. Serafine laid down again.  
Wolfrick wasn’t at the burning, something he regretted. But he had to hunt out the fu- gitives. His search led him down to the catacombs. There he found the drained body of a guard. There is also found Vitrent and Lilibell.  
it had taken ten men each to subdue them. Now they were in heavy chains pinning  
them to the top of a battlement of Baldrock.  
“Tell me about the Princess,” Wolfrick or- dered Vitrent  
“What Princess?” said Vitrent. “I don’t know you can torture us all you want. It won’t matter. I don’t know!”  
It had been like this all night. They’d ask and he’d lie.  
“Stop lying. Dawn is coming.” Wolfrick said. “The sun will rise.”  
“Brother tell them!” Lilibell said flailing in her chains.  
The sky was growing lighter and lighter.  
“You’ll go free to live out your miserable lives if you tell,” Said Wolfrick.

The sun was at the horizon  
Vitrent looked at his sister. “Fine! Fine! She threatened us! We took her as far as last fork. There are savage vampires there! They couldn’t have survived them!”  
The sun began to rise.“Let us go!” pleaded Lilibell.  
“No. Won’t I lied. Evil scum doesn’t deserve honesty.” Wolfrick said.  
The first rays of the sun touched the feet of the vampires. Their bodies started to burn and turn to ash. They were giving blood curdling screams Wolfrick watched. The wind blew a piece of ash into his face.  
The next day Serafine rose early. She left money on the table for Aggie. She woke Tiya and Darljin.  
“What happened last night?” Asked Darljin. “Are you alright?”  
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Serafine said.  
“Last night you woke you screaming,” Darl- jin said.  
“No I didn’t.” Serafine said. “Tiya didn’t she?” said Darljin. “No she didn’t,” Tiya said.  
“Now we have to get going,” Serafine said.

And so they began to walk, they walked out of the shanty town. There was River flowing southwards, They walked along the banks. Serafine and Tiya moving faster the Darljin, who would often stop to catch his breath. They walked all day, passed villages, over docks, passed fields with crops growing. It was late afternoon when a cawing raven flew over them. Serafine looked up and smiled. Something fell from above. She caught it. It was a little leather pouch, she undid the knots that held it. Inside was heavy gold signet ring set with the design of a dragon rampant and a thorny branch.  
“What was that?” asked Darljin.  
“A friend of ours,” Serafine said smiling widely.  
“A supposed friend,” Tiya growled. “Did you ask him how he got your father’s ring?”  
“That’s Fitzcaius’s ring?” Darljin looked down at the ring still sitting in the pouch.  
The raven was sitting in a high branch of a nearby tree cawing. Serafine turned and looked at the the raven. It spread it’s wings and took off.  
“He didn’t stay,” Serafine said. “Pity.” She slipped the ring onto her finger. “How did he get the ring?” asked Darljin.  
“How do you think,” Sighed Tiya. “Pecked it off her Father’s dead finger. As he swung in the gibbet.”  
“Don’t be horrid,” Serafine said. “Corvin wouldn’t stoop to that.”  
“Corvin would, you know what his people are like,” Tiya said. “He’s a bastard and the son of cursed people.”There was cawing in the background.  
“Who is Corvin? What is Corvin?” asked Darljin.  
“A friend of mine,” Serafine said and smiled, her eyes lighting up. “A very good friend.”  
“A scoundrel, a rake, an ambitious black- guard,” Tiya grumbled. “He’s a Corvus Reproba.”  
“They prefer Corvus Humanus,” Serafine corrected.  
“A Ravman? The cursed shapechangers?” said Darljin. “The still exist?"  
“They are not cursed that’s superstition. They were, are the staunchest supporters  
of the empire. Our families’ trusted mes- sengers and spies.” Serafine said.  
Tiya snorted. “They feed on corpses. They seduce, they lie and cheat. They are capricious and their only loyalty is themselves.”  
“Tiya, shut up. Corvin has proven that he is still our friend.” Serafine said with a happy sigh.  
Tiya scowled deeply but was quiet.  
Darljin had read of the Ravmen, according to legend they were descended from an ancient sorcerer, who made the skin and feathers of a raven into a cloak and through some primitive magic when he put it on, he was able to become a raven. But once he used it to spy on U’shtha the goddess of wisdom as she was bathing in a spring. The goddess discovered him and cursed his whole tribe. Never could they remain asmen, neither as ravens. They must take the raven cloak and wear it daily or they would die. When men they could eat like men, when ravens their minds would be intact but they must eat like ravens off the corpses of the dead. So they were shunned by all the peoples of the world. From what Darljin had read supposedly they were all killed off five hundred years ago along with the unicorns, dragons, and gryphons.  
Wolfrick hated bribing people. But Aidian had forbidden him from torturing the beg- gars. It made Wolfrick feel filthy inside. The beggars had gladly told about the three strangers who bought their clothing. An- other had told about the three strangers who wanted to visit old Aggie. She was dif- ficult case, she would not be bribed and had laughed at his men. So he had her brought in. What Aidian didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him it was for the right rea- sons. Wolfrick had Aggie brought to him not at Baldrock of course but a cellar below an inn.  
He paced the room waiting. A soldier brought Aggie to him.She was mumbling and ranting.  
“They think they can make Old Aggie talk, ha! Old Aggie is not afraid of pain! Old Ag- gie knows pain, Old Aggie know heartache! All of Old Aggie’s children betrayed her! That’s more pain then all the daggers in the world!” She ranted.  
“Shut up!” He ordered.  
Aggie looked up. “Old Aggie knows you. Old Aggie does. Old Aggie can’t remember. But Old Aggie knows faces she does.”  
“Tell me, about the strangers you gave shelter too,” Wolfrick said. He took a step forward and grabbed the old woman’s hand.

With a horrible snap he broke a finger. Old Aggie, wailed and stared at him with pain filled eyes. “I’ll break another one.”  
“Old Aggie knows nothing!” The old woman screamed.  
He punched her in the cheek. He snapped another finger. “TELL ME!”  
“NO!” Aggie said and she spit in his face.  
He kicked her to the ground and as she vomited. He stared in contempt. “I know you are lying. You always lie.”  
As if something in her mind clicked at that phrase. Old Aggie looked up. “Gort! You’re my Gort!”  
“Not anymore. Mother.” Wolfrick said. “Now tell me you whore, about the strangers.”

“Old Aggie’s son calls himself Wolfrick now. Puts on airs. You were born in the gutter, Gort. Old Aggie sold herself to feed you and your sisters.” Said Old Aggie. “Old Ag- gie won’t tell Gort anything. He hits his poor mother and never gave her anything. Though Old Aggie gave him life.”  
“You were a whore, mother. You sold my sisters and I into servitude.” Wolfrick growled.  
“Old Aggie had to. No food for the children. Best thing Old Aggie ever did. One girl head housekeeper, the other a watchman’s wife. And Gort’s a lord. Not that any of them give a tuppence for Old Aggie.” Said the old woman.  
He kicked her again and again and again. She tried to get to her knees and punched her down. Then he bent down to her level.

“Tell me mother. You had the strangers in your house. Where did they go?” Wolfrick said.  
“Don’t know. Old Aggie doesn’t know. They left at daybreak. Just left Old Aggie money. Please have pity on Old Aggie, Gort. She’s your mother.” Said Aggie.  
His eyes darkened with hate. “You never had any pity for us. You never loved us. You only cared for the bottle.”  
Old Aggie looked at him again and laughed. “That’s quite a scar Gort. You’d like people to think you got in battle. But Old Aggie has heard the story, Gort. Old Aggie knows the truth, Gort. She did it to you. Old Aggie laughed when Old Aggie heard it.”

“MY NAME IS WOLFRICK!” He shouted. He picked her up by the neck and slammed her ancient body on the nearest wall. Until the blood flowed from Old Aggie’s head. “MY NAME IS WOLFRICK, YOU WHORE!”  
Aggie opened her eyes perhaps for the last time. “Old Aggie, should have listened to the midwife. Old Aggie should have aborted you, Gort.”  
He dropped her to floor. And began to kick her, and stomp on her body. He did it until her body no longer resembled anything human. Just a bloody mess on the floor. Fi- nally he stepped away.  
“Goodbye, Mother.” He said.  
He called for the soldier. The soldier came in and vainly attempted to mask the look of horror on his face.

“My lord?” the Soldier asked.  
“Wouldn’t talk. Had to use extreme meas- ures.” Wolfrick said. “Get some rags to wipe off the blood.”  
“Y-Yes, right away.” The Soldier said turning to leave.  
“Don’t tell the king, he doesn’t need to know this.” Wolfrick said.  
The sun was just setting when Serafine, Tiya and Darljin reached the beginnings of a vast, stinking swamp. The reeds grew higher then their heads. Frogs croaked, in- sects buzzed and swamp birds cried.  
“Come along,” Serafine said she stepped onto a narrow path between two reeds. “The forrel swamp, is the perfect escape route.”

“But what about the Ib?” asked Darljin. “I’ve heard they live here and they don’t like in- truders.”  
Serafine grinned, Tiya rolled her eyes and Darljin followed.  
They stepped into the swamp. The path was so narrow there was hardly room for each step. There was rustling in the reeds. The birds were crying in alarm and the sky was growing dark. They paused by a stagnant pool, thick with algae.  
“They should be here.” Serafine said. “I know they live here.”  
At that moment the Ib emerged from the reeds, the pool and all around them. The Ib walked on two legs with a rolling rubbery gait. They were tall and thin, their skin a slick blue green color, like that of a frog.

They had large dark bugling eyes, thick lips, noses that were little more then two holes, gill slits on their necks. Their ears mere the suggestions. Some had hair, dark and oily, some were bald. They wore little: the men brown loin cloths of a coarse material the women wore short tunics of the same.  
They all carried spears or tridents.  
“You must the people of Ib,” said Serafine with calm, charm and grace.  
“We are,” said one Bald Ib taller then the rest.  
“We come to seek passage through your lands. Also we would like your help.” Serafine said.  
“We don’t like people crossing our lands.” The Bald Ib said. “How would you help us?”  
“Is it true the Ib once ruled these lands?

That you had a vast civilization, raised pyramids, temples and ziggurats?” Said Serafine.  
“Yes.” The bald Ib said. “We did. Then men came from the north, destroyed our build- ings, desecrated our temples, massacred our people. We are reduced to this.”  
“Help me and I will restore the glory of the Ib.” said Serafine.  
“You?! How?!” Said the Bald Ib with a croaking laugh.  
Serafine held out her right hand, the signet ring flashed. “I am Princess Serafine Atra- Nefari, together we rebuild our empires. Now take me to your chief.”  
The Bald Ib grinned his teeth were like that of a predatory fish. “Am I Nithug chief of the  
Ib. And I like way you think, Princess. Come let’s go my village where there is sweet fish to eat and strong drink. We will discuss this.”  
Nithrug conveyed the message to the rest of people through the strange croaking lan- guage of the Ib. And they walked. Tiya grabbed Serafine’s arm.  
“Mistress what was that nonsense about rebuilding the empire?” Whispered Tiya.  
“It’s not nonsense, it’s what I’ve intended all along.” Serafine hissed back.  
Tiya sighed. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to do this.”  
They came to the village was surrounded by a fence of woven sticks. On nearly all sides but the left for that is were there was the river bank. Nithug called to the gatekeeper with strange chirruping call. The gate was opened. In the dusk they looked out on upon the Ibbish village. By the river bank were arrayed wooden boats, canoes and reed rafts. Further in there were the houses wattle and daub huts thatched with reeds. Smoke poured from holes in the roof. Naked Ib children shouted to each other and played in the darkening light, women stood in doorways gossiping, some men were repairing their boats. All the strange Ibbish eyes turned towards them. The naked children followed the party gib- bering in their own tongue and pointing at them. Eekie attracted the most attention. They kept trying to grab at his tail. Nithrug croaked out a few words and the children ran away. They walked down the muddy streets where racks of fish were drying in the air, women skinned frogs in doorways, and men drank a strange black brew. As they went the other Ib went back to their homes. The smell of cooking fish and cattailshoots made their stomachs rumble. In the center of the Village was a large black stone statue crudely carved of the great wa- ter lizard ( a creature long extinct) it grinned in a most disconcerting way. There was al- tar before it, stained with blood, covered with food, flowers and drink.  
“That is Bokrug our God.” Nithug said and made a strange gesture with his long webbed fingers. “They say someday he will rise from the waters of the river and utterly destroy the men and their city. Though I re- spect Bokrug,” Again the gesture.” I am sick of waiting for him. Come, my home is near.”  
The house of chief was twice as large as those of the villagers. The house was lit with torches of burning reeds dipped in some kind of oil, it gave off a orange- green light. They were in large central room. There were lots of women busy with cook ing, cleaning, weaving, sewing nets and  
tending to infants. There were children some helping, some playing.  
As soon they entered a large Ibbish woman with thick black hair came to Nithug with a odd looking golden goblet full of a black- green liquid. She croaked out a greeting. Then saw the rest of the party.  
“Husband! Why did you bring these strangers to our home!? Why did you let them enter our village!” She said speaking in the common tongue.  
“They come to help us, Gathla,” He sipped the drink. “Go back to supervising the women.”  
“Hmmmph, some day husband, you will try me much.” She muttered and went back to scolding the other women in Ibbish.  
“Gathla is my first wife, she gets above herself sometimes.” Said Nithug  
“Are all these women your wives?” asked Serafine politely.  
“Three are, two are merely concubines and the remaining three are simply serving girls.” Nithug said. “The children are all mine.” He grinned his fishy grin.  
“This must the most prosperous of Ib villages.” Said Serafine.  
“It is! There are other half-breed villages that do better but of the pure Ib we are best.” Said Nithug. “Now let us talk.”  
He went to a table in the back of the room. He yelled at the women. Soon plates of food and pitchers of drink were brought by silent Ibbish women. There was a plate full of frog’s legs that had been deep fried, sau- teed trout, some other types of river fish, steamed cattail shoots and hearts, a braised muskrat with a strange sauce and a odd spongey bread. Nithug poured from a glass pitcher resembling a frog on it’s haunches into golden goblets. One of the children came up to the table and grabbed at the food. A woman presumably it’s mother hit it’s hand and scolded it with a chirruped word.  
“Gathla tell the others they will eat after my guests and I have talked.” Nithug ordered.  
Gathla nodded and went to the other women yelled instructions in Ibbish. They went back to work, taking the hungry chil- dren with them.  
“This quite a feast Nithug,” Serafine said. “Yes, now eat! Drink!” Said Nithug.  
Darljin looked suspiciously at the strange food and the greenish-blackish drink. Tiya

took a little of each on her plate and drank from the goblet.She bent down and whispered to Darljin: “Eat, not taking offered hospitality is an in- sult in most cultures. We don’t want to insult them do we?”  
Darljin nodded and quickly grabbed some of the food.  
Serafine had taken some of everything. She sipped her drink with equanimity.  
“This is very good what is it?” She asked.  
“Balbal our beer it’s brewed from cattail roots, flavored with cranberries and herbs that grow in the marsh.” Nithug said smiling.  
Darljin sipped at his drink, it was strong he was unused to the taste of alcohol but the fruitiness of it was good.

Serafine and Nithug talked. “Will your peo- ple stand with me against Aidian and the others?”  
“Yes, I am the greatest of the Ib chiefs and my word is even respected by half Ib. By Bokrug’s left fin,” He made the gesture of respect for Bokrug. “You will have our spears, and our tridents, when you need them.”  
“Thank you, and what do you wish for your people?” asked Serafine.  
“We want a city of our own. For to long we have been reduced to living on the outskirts and swamps. We want the right to build a city for our people. Perhaps rebuild the an- cient city of the Ib.” Nithug said.  
“You speak for all Ib when you say this?” asked Serafine.

“Yes, it our people’s dream,” said Nithug. “Anything else?” Serafine asked.  
“When your empire is rebuilt, the men here will not like us. They will know we fought on your side. They will come to slaughter us. We want safe passage into your empire. We want to make our home there on your river banks, in your marshes. And we also want to charge a toll on all river traffic.” Said Nithug.  
“I can provide that. How about a 5% toll?” Serafine said.  
“10%.” Nithug said.  
Serafine thought, she sipped her balbal. “Done.”

“Now Princess what do you want?” Asked Nithug.  
“Currently, I want to stay and rest here for a few days. And I want you to provide safe passage for my party.” She said.  
Nithug grinned. “That will be the easiest thing in the world.”  
It was later in the evening after the meal. Nithug, Serafine and some of the elders of the village departed to small hut of Nithug’s to hammer out the finer points of the agreement.  
Tiya followed and so did Darljin. Just as Serafine was about to enter the hut. Tiya pulled her back.  
“Tiya let me go at once,” hissed Serafine.

“What is this madness, Mistress? Rebuild the empire? It has been utterly shattered, you can’t do this. There is no way this will work.” Tiya said.  
“Why do think I bothered to escape Bal- drock in the first place? This has been my plan all along. There are so many people that need the empire back.” Serafine said. “It is the only course of action, really.”  
“It’s a stupid one. We’ll end in a gibbet. Or with our heads on pikes.” Tiya growled.  
“It’s mine and I will pursue it. And if we do die then it will be for a good cause.” Said Serafine. “I swore to the shade of my fa- ther.”  
“I don’t like it.” Tiya said.“I didn’t ask you to like it,” Serafine said.

Serafine went into the hut and Tiya sulked. Darljin approached Tiya. Eekie was eating cranberries on his shoulder.  
“I heard that, if you don’t like what she is doing. Why don’t you just leave?” Darljin asked. “I mean if you think this stupid---”  
Tiya’s eyes blazed she grabbed Darljin by the throat and lifted him from the ground. Eekie scuttled off Darljin.  
“Are you implying I should be disloyal to my Mistress?! That I should abandon her!?” Tiya growled.  
Darljin gagged. “No---”  
“Good. I would shame every orc that ever lived if I did that. I would be traitor not wor- thy of entering the afterlife. I will never leave my Mistress, even if I don’t agree with her.” Said Tiya.

Darljin nodded and Tiya put him down. “I should go. I have spells to practice or something.” He said.  
“You do that, sorcerer.” Tiya spat. “I have to go in there and keep my Mistress safe.”  
And she entered the hut.  
Wolfrick sat in the counsel chamber a stoney expression on his face.  
“Why did you kill that helpless old woman?” Aidian asked.  
“She wouldn’t talk. Got carried away.” Wol- frick said.  
“Friend you taught me swordsmanship, you saved me from the hordes of the empire and together we battled the demon Ipawat. But you can’t do this.” Aidian said.

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” said Wolfrick.  
“So any word on the location of the Princess and her party?” asked Aidian.  
“Yes. Some fishermen saw them on the river bank. They were heading for forrel swamp.” Wolfrick said.  
“But that’s where the Ib live. No ones comes out their alive or sane,” Aidian said.  
“So the story goes.” said Wolfrick, “With your permission, take my battalion into the swamp. Will get the truth if I have to kill every cursed Ib in the swamp.”  
“No! NO!” Aidian said. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Sire, the Ib are a threat.” Wolfrick said.  
“They did nothing wrong,” Aidian said.  
“Really, sheltering fugitives?” Wolfrick said.  
“Perhaps but, don’t kill them. Ask them.” Aidian said.  
“Will try to ask them. Can’t guarantee any- thing.” Said Wolfrick.  
“I’m sending Bilor the dwarf with you.” Aid- ian said. “Just to make sure you do.  
“Very well, Sire.” Wolfrick said.  
Wolfrick bowed to Aidian and left the coun- sel chamber.  
It was noon on the second day of their time with the Ib. Darljin sat on a rock by the river.

The children of the village had really loved Eekie. They had fed him grubs and played with him. Now Eekie was sleeping contently on Darljin’s shoulder. Serafine and Tiya were busy with Nithug. Darljin watched as Ib youths swam naked in the river. Their hairless blue green chests glistened, they splashed, called and wrestled in the water. Darljin watched them. There was group of Ib maidens on the river bank watching as well with gurgling giggles and comments Darljin didn’t understand.  
Someone tapped on his shoulder. He ex- pected to see a another Ibbish child with a fat wriggling grub for Eekie. Instead he was face to face with Serafine.  
“Come with me.” Serafine said. “Why?” asked Darljin

“Just come.” Serafine said. “Don’t ask so many questions. I’ll let you get back to your ogling later.”  
“I wasn’t ogling, I was observing.” Darljin said.  
Serafine raised an eyebrow. “Very well.”  
They went off to secluded hut on the out- skirts of the village.  
Gathla was there. She handed them each a mildew smelling bundle of clothing.  
Darljin looked at his outfit. It was a heavy plain dark gray robe, covered with old brown blood stains. “What are these?”  
“Clothes taken off bodies they pulled from the river,” Serafine said. She had a light yel- lowish- whitish dress in her hands. It looked

like a it had been a wedding gown at one point.  
“Correct.” Said Gathla.“I’m not wearing----” Darljin began.  
“Yes you are.” Tiya sighed. “I am.”  
Tiya’s garment was a faded low cut scarlet silk gown.  
“What are they going to do with our old clothes?” Asked Darljin.  
They each took turns in the hut changing. Gathla took the old beggar’s rags. She put them in pile. Then she took out a duck from a cage. With a small sharp knife she cut it’s throat. She tied the duck’s body over the pile of clothes and let the blood drip on it. When the blood had stopped she took out

some of the oil used to light the reed torches. She set the clothing on fire.  
Darljin was puzzled at this. Tiya looked strangely at Serafine who was smiling darkly.  
On the morning of the next day. They woke up early.  
“You will leave today,” Nithug said. And he lead them down winding narrow paths in the reeds until the got to the edge. There was hill that gradually sloped upwards. On top of the hill were the dark silhouette of houses.  
“The village of Akhum, I presume.” Serafine said.


	3. Chapter 3

“Yes,” said Nithug and he spoke as they walked up the hill. “One hundred years ago. A great plague swept through the land. We Ib were not affected, but men were. We saw many, many bodies of men float down the river. The people of Akhum knew this. They came to us, bringing their sick. We used our medicines and our magic to heal them. Many a romance started between nurse and patient. And when they had recovered the men of Akhum took their brides back to the village. They have taken Ib wives when they can ever since.”  
They walked down the streets of Akhum. The people who showed themselves had a blueish-greenish tint to their skin, some had gill slits, and other Ibbish features.  
“I’ve read about this place, I’ve always wanted to visit,” said Serafine.

The village was dark and unwelcoming. The people who scuttled along the streets and gave wary glances.Nithug marched through the street tall and proud, nodding to those he saw. They walked down to the docks.  
There were stinking, greying boats for fishing bobbing in the water. At one of the boats a crew was preparing to go out into the river. They wore dark colored clothes, knit caps and gloves. They spoke a strange pidgin of Ibbish and the common tongue. They looked up.  
“Obadiah, cousin we need your help,” Nithug commanded.  
One the figures, hunched and stout came up to Nithug. He took off his glove and placed a webbed hand on Nithug’s shoulder and Nithug did the same to him.

“Nithug cousin, what do you wish?” asked Obadiah.  
“These three need safe passage to the old empire lands.” Said Nithug.  
Obadiah looked over the party and grinned his teeth just as pointed and fishy as his cousins’.  
“I can do that. And it’ll need to be discreet I wager,” said Obadiah.  
“Yes.” said Nithug.  
“You owe me cousin,” said Obadiah. “Now ladies step aboard my fair vessel the water dragon and we’ll get you set up.”  
“I’m not a lady,” Darljin mumbled but no one seemed to hear him. As they boarded the boat.

Wolfrick stared at the gate of the Ibbish village in frustration. Him, his soldiers and Bilor looked at the impassive face of Nithug and his warriors.  
“Have.... any.... strange-rs.... come.... this... way?” Bilor said speaking slowly like to a simpleton.  
“What you mean?” said Nithug in an odd croak.  
“People...you... don’t.... know...” Bilor said.  
Nithug waited, he seemed to think a long time on this question. “Yes.”  
“Give them up, they are fugitives from justice of the king,” Wolfrick said.

“We no give them up.” Nithug said. “They dead. They came and we sacrificed them to Bokrug. Burnt the bodies. Glory to Bokrug!” He made a odd gesture when saying the name .  
“Show us proof.” Wolfrick growled.  
And There was much croaking and chirruping. Eventually an Ib came forward carrying a bundle of ragged clothing. He dumped it at the feet of the soldiers. Bilor examined the bloody half burnt rags.  
“It looks like they are telling the truth,” Bilor said. “They were dressed as beggars.”  
Wolfrick’s face darkened. He longed to get the truth from the Ib his way. It would work. They always talked in the end. He looked at the pile of bloody, burnt rags.  
He whispered to Bilor. “You really think this is the proof they are dead?”

“The Ib are savages,” whispered Bilor. “You know what they do to outsiders.”  
“What about Akhum?” Wolfrick said.  
“What about it?” asked Bilor clueless.  
“Fine.” Wolfrick said. “You might be lying but I can’t prove it.”  
“What you say?” said Nithug.  
“Nothing, Ib fool.” Wolfrick said.  
And they walked away. Nithug grinned to himself  
They searched the village of Akhum next, every room, every trunk, they attic and cellar. The hold of every boat They scared the villagers and found nothing but mundane things, emptiness and in the boats fish. Lots of fish.  
“If I never fish again, I’ll die a happy dwarf,” said Bilor. As they went back to the city.  
Wolfrick grunted.  
In the hold of the water dragon, under mounds of fish and a tarp lay Serafine, Tiya, Darljin and Eekie. Silent and waiting for the boat to get far enough away from the shore to get up and gaze upon the empire lands again.  
They were half way across the water in site of the old empire lands when they left the hold. Serafine held her head high. Her black hair once confined by pins and up in bun, flowed down her shoulders. The off- white wedding gown was bit to large for her and hung loose at the shoulders and sleeves. Tiya looked odd in the faded scar-let gown. And Darljin watched as shore line approached. Finally they reached a wooden dock. It was eerily silent but for the cries of birds over head. Obadiah gave a sack of fish and wished them well.  
They disembarked and began to walk. It had been a fishing village. Half the houses were blackened charred ruins, the others were empty. Their footsteps echoed on the cobbled streets. From high branches in several trees hung bodies: they had been picked by the birds and lashed by the weather. But from the size of them, the green tint of the skin and the coarseness of the features they were orcish. Tiya gripped her sword. And looked around. The streets were empty and the only cries were that of birds.  
“We should make a pyre them,” Tiya said. “Give my people a decent send off.”

“Very well,” Serafine went to the dangling corpse of one orcish woman still clad in a dress and apron. “Help me cut her down.”  
Darljin looked around, there was a strange rustling and scuttling sound from a darkened doorway. “Someone’s here.”  
“Come out,” said Serafine. “Show yourself, there’s no need to be afraid.”  
“Why are you telling them that, what if they are dangerous?” Darljin said.  
“They aren’t.” Serafine said.  
And a motley group of children came from the house.They were human, orc and half orc, about a dozen or so. The youngest had had to a little black haired orc girl of three, her strange orc face with it’s green almost black skin, upturned nose, thick lips and sad eyes was full of fear. But then she saw Tiya. A smile brightened her little face and she ran to Tiya and hugged her leg. Tiya reached down and stroked the girl’s thick black hair.  
“What happened here?” asked Serafine.  
A tall half-orc boy with blond hair spoke: “The soldiers came. Our parents hid us in the cellar. I would have fought. But Mum and Dad told me not to. So we waited and waited. After a day we came out. Everything was burning and our parents were dead. We buried the ones we could.”  
“I’m hungry,” said a human girl who must have been six or seven.  
“So am I,” said another.   
“Me too!” added a third.  
“We have fish, does anyone know how to cook?” asked Serafine. One the older Orc girls raised her hand. “Good, you cook up this fish for us and we’ll eat. Darljin you go with the children.”  
Serafine gave the sack of fish to the girl. Tiya extracted herself from the clutches of the three year old. They cut down the bodies from the trees. Serafine cut the rope from their necks. The older children helped Tiya gather logs and sticks for the pyre. The fish were cleaned. Darljin used his fireball spell to light the the dead hearth. The smaller children oohed and aaahed, for they’d never seen magic.  
“Why don’t you have the dead guard to defend the village?” asked Darljin.

“We did, but the soldiers had a wizard with them. He spoke a few words and all the dead guard fell down and became just dead again,” said a human boy about eight or so.  
The other children nodded.  
“Oh,” Darljin said.  
“The bodies are still here,” said the boy. “Can you make them walk and fight again?”  
“Errrr, no I’m just an apprentice I haven’t done much real magic,” said Darljin.  
“Oh,” said the boy looking down at his feet.  
Serafine, Tiya and the older children came in.

“Time for one last good bye.” said Tiya. “We are going give their spirits peace.”  
So they walked out to where the pyre had been built, in the village square. The bodies of orcs were laid out neatly. The children, human, orc and half orc came up to bodies some touched them. Some mumbled things, prayers and remembrances.  
Serafine nodded to Darljin.  
“Stand back,” Darljin said. He intoned the words of the fireball spell. his palms began to glow hotter and redder. Finally a huge orb of fire sat between his two palms. He said one final word and shoved the fireball at the pyre.  
The pyre went up in orange blaze. The orc and half orc children began to howl. A strange bestial howl full of loss and grieve. Tiya joined in. Serafine stood at a distance and watched them, her grey eyes icy. Somewhere a raven called.  
After a long day, it was time to sleep. Tiya and Darljin bedded down in with the children. The tiny orc girl was cradled in Tiya’s arms. Serafine watched the sleep and snore. She went up the stairs of the house were they were staying. There was a torn feather mattress on the floor and blanket in the corner. She turned the mattress over and slept and dreamed.  
She was at the arena watching as her father was stabbed through the neck. Only it didn’t happen just once, it was happening over and over again, one horrible moment replaying it’s self. The look on her father’s dying face, the sword going through his neck. The blood, all the blood. She turned away and looked at the stands. Her mother sat in a bloody silver gown, her broken neck, flopping at an odd angle, a rivulet of blood in the corner of her mouth. And then there were her little sisters and brothers. Sitting bolt upright, their eyes rolled back to in their heads, blank whites staring. Their pale lips stained green with the poison that had killed them. There was horror all around. No escaping. She cried out. And she was alone in a dark room, on a feather mattress, moonlight streaming through a window. She instantly looked around for Tiya for comfort. Instead a pale hand gripped her arm. She looked into a face she knew. And she smiled, her heart beat slowed.  
“Don’t fear my lady, I am here,” whispered a gravelly male voice.

Tiya woke up. Dawn’s light was coming through a window and the cracks in the door. The little girl was still sleeping Tiya let her sleep. She went up the stairs to check  
on her Mistress. Serafine lay under the blanket, her black hair splayed out around her. Her right arm flung out as if clutching a someone who wasn’t there anymore. Tiya frowned. Serafine stirred. She looked up blearily at Tiya.  
“Well?” She asked.  
“Mistress we should leave as soon as possible.” Tiya said.  
Serafine nodded.“Wake Darljin,” Said Serafine.  
Tiya turned her back. Serafine opened her right hand and discreetly tucked a handful of black feathers under the mattress.  
The party breakfasted on fish. And set out, walking the road out of the ruined village.  
The children followed. The little orc girl tripping along and crying for Tiya.  
Serafine turned and stopped. She stared at the children with her most icy gaze. “Go away, or go back.” She said.  
“Why should we?” said the Eldest blond half-orc boy.  
“We don’t have anything for you,” Serafine said. “We can’t take care of you.”  
“We can take care of ourselves and the little ones just fine,” replied a human girl thrust- ing her chin out.  
“Then why follow us?” Serafine asked. “You can do just as well in your village.”

“The village is sad and empty,” said a little orc boy. “We don’t want to stay there anymore.”  
“Go away,” Serafine said. “We don’t need you.”  
And she began walking along the road. She noticed her companions hadn’t taken another step. Darljin was standing there star ing at her Eekie curled on his head like a very strange hat. The little orc girl had caught up with Tiya, and was being held by her.  
“You two really want to stay and play nursemaid?” said Serafine.  
“Err no, but they are children,” Darljin said. “We can’t let them fend for themselves.”  
“We can’t afford to take them with us, it’s to dangerous,” said Serafine.  
“We will take them with us, Mistress,” said Tiya hefting the little girl up to her chest.  
Serafine sighed. “Very well, they can come,”  
So they journeyed for days through the ruined countryside. The sky over head was grey. The farmer’s fields were empty with crops rotting in them and the hamlets they passed through were half burnt and empty. One night they feasted on the stores of an abandoned farm house. The next they slept under the stars with empty stomachs. The little orc girl was called Mirla and Tiya sang to her in orcish to calm her when she was hungry. Darljin thought it odd that a tongue so harsh sounding could be so sweet suddenly sung with a melody and a soft woman’s voice.  
The next day they walked down an deserted road, their feet echoing on the stones.  
“Where is everyone?” Darljin wondered.  
“They fled, or were killed,” said Serafine. “There is no law anymore. No safety. If they are human they will head out of empire lands.”  
“And if they aren’t?” said Darljin.  
“They will form bands for protection or be killed. Now is a bad time to an orc. Anyone with a grudge against orcs will exact in full murderous revenge,” Serafine.  
“It’ll be like before the empire,” Tiya said. “A thousand years ago you stuck with your tribe and clan to keep safe. There was safety in numbers.”  
“But orcs are stronger then humans,” Darljin said.  
“Yes, but mob of humans can still take down an orc, humans have always had a cunning that orcs do not. They lie and cheat. They plan ambushes. A thousand years ago. Orcs did not, we were a very honest race.” Tiya said.  
“And they fought each other,” Serafine said. “I’ve read Mctavish’s Hystory Of the Orcish Race. There were wars between the tribes, wars within the tribes between clans.”  
“Besides your only half-orc,” said Darljin

“You think that will matter to Aidian’s soldiers?” Said Tiya.  
They were coming to a crossroads. There was a sign post with two signs, one pointing west to a place called ‘Cheesegoode’ and the other pointing east to ‘Greenvale’. At the western fork there was a rotting human head on a pike, on the pike was tacked crude sign with ‘Beware’ scrawled in a messy hand.  
“Is to much to hope for that we’re going to Cheesegoode?” asked Darljin  
Tiya said nothing her face became stoney.  
“Greenvale was a village near her father’s estate,” Serafine said.”There may be someone there to help us.”

So they went past the human head. As the last child in the party went by a raven fluttered down on the head and picked off a strip of rotting flesh. As they walked down the road, they could smell smoke on the air and the sounds of chatter, not in the common tongue, in orcish.  
As they came up over a rise in the road. They saw ahead a little off the road in a grove of trees, there was there was the start of a military camp. White tents and cooking fires. And guards, two huge broad- shouldered, well-muscled orcs with greenish-blackish skin stood at attention fully armed. There a flag to the right of them. A blue background with a black hand on it.  
Serafine blinked then strode up to them, she nodded Tiya at Tiya and Tiya followed her.

“Who are you?!” Boomed the left hand guard. “Two doxies we don’t need your type, go away!”  
Tiya went up left hand guard, she came up to the middle of his chest.  
“We are not doxies, we are not whores.” Tiya said. “Learn respect!”  
“Why should we respect you, little halfbreed whore?” Chuckled the right hand orc.  
Serafine smiled. “You must be the famed burnt hand legion. I’ve heard you were second only to the Blood legion in ferociouness.”  
“Aye,” said the Right hand guard. “We are what’s left or it. What’s it to you?”

Serafine proffered her right hand, the signet ring gleamed.  
“I am Princess Serafine Atra-Nefari, the daughter of Overlord Fitizcaius the sly.” She said.  
And the two orcs got down on their knees.  
“Forgive us princess, we did not know,” said the right hand orc.  
“You can take our lives for the insult,” said the left hand orc.  
“I forgive you, I need your strength not your lives for my next venture,” Said Serafine. “What are your names?”  
“I am Gun’ar,” said the left hand orc. “I am Ha’nith,” said the right hand orc.  
“Jolly good,” said Serafine. “Now does gen- eral Ni’gug still live? He was in charge of your legion.”  
“Yes. The old war-boar still lives.” said Gunner.  
“Take me to him,” Serafine said.  
“Is your bodyguard Tiya with you?” asked Gun’ar.  
“Yes, who did you think I was?” Tiya said.  
“We have your mother and your brother,” said Ha’nith.  
“On second thought, tell the general I will be with him shortly.” Serafine said. “I liked your brother Lir’ard and your mother Ada.”

Gun’ar nodded and went off. Ha’nith said: “The woman is dying. The lad is not worthy to be an orc, he waits only for you to kill him.”  
“What?!” Tiya demanded.  
“He did not defend his own mother, he doesn’t deserve to live. We were going to kill him when the woman died. But you are here, and you can kill him,” Ha’nith said.  
“Take me to him!” demanded Tiya.  
And they marched off.  
“I’ll just stay here, with the children then?” Darljin sighed at the camp entrance.  
Another orc, a female one with bluish-black hair in a braid around her head came up to him. “I am Lt. Nya I will take you and the little ones to tent and feed you.”  
“Oh good,” Darljin said. “What’s for dinner?”  
“Pork jerky,” said Nya. “and peasant’s bread.”  
Mirla hid behind Darljin’s leg. Nya looked down at the little orc girl. Nya’s face seemed to soften a sad smile appeared on her lips.

“I had a little sister that age, we nicknamed her ‘biter’ I made her a wooden axe for her last birthday. I don’t know what has become of her.” Said Nya. “You will be camped with the female division. There are many there that will welcome the sight of children. And also it we will protect your virtue, miss.”  
“I’m not a girl,” said Darljin mumbled as they walked off.  
Tiya and Serafine were lead to a darkened tent, it was guarded. “Take him out,” ordered Tiya.  
And the guards went into the dark tent and dragged out Lir’ard. Lir’ard looked more human then his sister, he had the slightest greenish- tinge to his skin, his features just a little of orc coarseness, his hair was straight and blonde. He was scrawny and tall. Also he was tied up with thick brown rope and gagged with a piece of white cloth. He wore the remains of tunic and leggings.  
He squinted up at Tiya.  
“Where are his spectacles?” asked Serafine.

“They broke,” said Ha’nith.  
“You broke them,” grumbled Tiya.  
“Are you going to kill him now?” Asked Ha’nith.  
“No,” Tiya said.  
“But he didn’t defend his own mother!” said Ha’nith. “He has no honor!”  
“He’s not warrior, he’s a scholar, he never liked fighting or bothered to learn how.” Said Tiya. “Take out the gag.”  
The guard complied. “Lir’ard, it’s me,” Tiya said.  
He squinted up at her. “Tiya? They are going to kill me, I didn’t fight the soldiers. I deserve to die.”  
“Did our mother tell you not to fight them? Did she tell you to hide?” asked Tiya.  
“Yes.” Lir’ard said.  
“There, he doesn’t deserve to die. He was obeying the wishes of a parent. And our people listen to our parents and obey.” said Tiya.  
Ha’nith nodded. “He’s no warrior.”  
“No, but he’s my brother.” Said Tiya. “Now untie him.”  
Ha’nith nodded to the guard who untied Lir’ard. The lad got to his feet, he squinted at Serafine.  
“Lady Serafine? Is that you?” He asked. “Yes,” said Serafine.  
“You survived?” said Lir’ard.  
“Of course,” Serafine said.  
Lir’ard straightened his posture, he brushed off his tunic and ran a hand through his un- tidy hair. Serafine sighed.  
“You said our Mother is dying,” said Tiya. “Take us to her.”  
Ha’nith nodded. In happier times, Serafine visited General Har’rath’s estate and had met Ada, Tiya’s mother. Ada had been a large human woman not fat, just large at least six feet tall and solidly built. She was middle-aged, and had red hair streaked with white. Freckled by the sun and always smiling. The figure on the bed didn’t re- semble this woman at all. She seemed smaller, thin and frail. Her head had been shaved badly, by someone with malice. Among the things that been done to her, someone else had branded her with a ‘H’ presumably for whore (By someone who couldn’t spell) on her right cheek. There were bruises on her face and bandaged wounds all over. It was obvious she had been tortured. An orcish healer, just was scrawny as Lir’ard and carrying a book of spells sat by her chanting. There was faint blue light over her body. The healer looked up at them wearily as they entered.  
“She doesn’t have long.” said the Healer.  
“Who’s here?” said Ada in voice hardly above a whisper.  
“Me, Mama,” said Tiya kneeling down by the bedside.  
“And I am here,” Lir’ard said kneeling down near his sister  
Ada opened her eyes, and smiled. “I had hoped to see your face before...” She murmured in a voice as faint as breeze.  
Ada raised bandaged hands from her covers she ran her hand over Tiya’s face. And took another hand and ran down Lir’ard’s face.  
“Mama,”Tiya said. Taking the hand in hers.  
“I love you my girl, my little girl,” Ada said in her small wispy voice.  
“And my Lir’ard, my clever Lir’ard,” Ada said and turned her eyes to her younger child. “Are you crying?”

Lir’ard was crying softly.  
“Don’t cry, I’ll be with your father soon,” Said Ada. “When.... I met... him... I never... thought... I could...love...him... so much...”  
There was few minutes of silence as Ada’s children held her hands and she smiled at them. Then she closed her eyes, the faint blue light above her died. The smile faded. Her hands were limp.  
Tiya put down her Mother’s hand and began to howl, long loud and filled with such anguish, such grief and sorrow. Lir’ard joined his sister, a soft mewling thing that picked up strength and volume as it went on and on.  
The healer shook his head and joined in. Serafine watched, wishing to be else where.

Over thirty years ago there was were three children that were sold by their mother. Their mother Agnathea, had been the wife of sailor who never came home. Whether he died at sea or just found a better life in another port is unknown. To support her family she had whored, stolen and begged. But it wasn’t just for that, it mainly to buy herself more bottles of gin. With the money she got from selling her children, she was able to entice a widowed innkeeper into marrying her.  
The man she sold them too loaded the crying, children into a cart with other children he’d bought and went off. He fed them gruel and would beat them with a horsewhip. He travelled from town to town selling children. The two older children eight and nine were bought right away they were the age to start  
in service. But the boy, Gort was only six, he was small runty thing with lice filled blond hair that would darken with age and wide blue eyes. He traveled further and further into the kingdom over rutted dirt roads. Finally when they near the border of the small kingdom, he was bought. The woman who bought him was head cook for Lord Rathbone. She took pity on him and besides she needed a scullion.  
To Gort the kitchen was like a palace and his sleeping pallet by the hearth, better then a feather bed. He quickly took his duties: washing the dishes, sweeping the floor and cleaning the kitchen. He liked the Cook. She wasn’t like his mother. The Cook would only give him a smack with a wooden spoon when he went wrong or got lazy. Not like mother would beat him when her whims dictated. And the Cook would explain what he was doing wrong and show him how to do it correctly. Gort liked the routine of the kitchen, the work was hard but he could do it and there was always something to eat. He would have gone on like this and one day become a cook himself. If it wasn’t for the events of that happened the summer of his eighth year. Lord Rathbone’s Sister, Baroness Benford came visiting with her three daughters. The youngest was four a little blonde shy, wispy, thing called Marah, the eldest was nine already becoming a beauty called Aine and middle girl was six, a rosy cheeked little blonde haired, blue eyed smiling girl called Elspeth. Gort the kitchen boy watched them play in Lord Rathbone’s gardens from a kitchen window and became infatuated with Aine. One hot summer day, so hot that the Cook dismissed him early, he went to the nearby river Swift-stream to swim. The river was hardly more then creek, but it was deep and cool. But when he got to the river he found Baroness Benford’s daughters and some maidservants bathing in the river. Gort should have left but instead he watched the girls swim and play in the cool water. To get away from her Elder sister’s splashing Elspeth swam into the middle of the river where the current was strong. Elspeth was to small and weak to fight against the cur- rent and before the eyes of her horrified sisters and maids she was swept away. Gort leapt into the river not heeding his own safety. He grabbed Elspeth’s struggling form and dragged her ashore.  
That act of valor and heroism changed Gort’s life. Lord Rathbone was impressed and petitioned the king to have the boy ennobled to the rank of knight when he came of age. Instead of mere scullion Gort was now a squire. And Elspeth loved him. She would constantly find excuses to spend time with him and he with her. For the summer they were inseparable, little sweethearts. But the summer ended. And Elspeth went home.

The pyre was ready for Ada. With great care the healer had cleaned and prepared the body. It was twilight now. All the camp had gathered even general Ni’gug, who nodded at Serafine when he saw her. Ni’gug was shorter then most orcs only six foot four, and old. His skin had grey patina and his hair was merely a white fuzz on his scalp, and his left eye was cloudy with a cataract and lastly it was out of fashion now for male orcs to grow out their bottom incisors into fearsome tusks, but that had been the fashion of Ni’gug’s youth and so he sported two looping tusks from his bottom jaw. Hence his nickname.  
They laid Ada’s body on the pyre. Serafine closed her eyes and stepped forward. “It is human tradition to talk of the dead and remember the good things,” She nodded to the orcs. Though Ada was orc through mar- riage she deserves this tradition Har’rath’s surviving family deserves this. Ada was born in a castle not far from here. She was the third daughter of Baron Calumny. The fifth child of twelve. When she was 23 and had already given up hope of marriage when Har’rath came into her life. Har’rath was widower at the time his first wife an orc, colonel Sigra had been killed in the Elven Wars. He had mourned her for two years. But he had a son Gar’og who needed a mother. And his eyes fell on the Baron’s third daughter. She was tall and strong enough to be an orc but her nature was sweet and intelligent. Many of you know Har’rath as a great general. But he was more then that. He loved a good political debate, he read and wrote poetry, he was passionate about history and knowledge. He could have bought Ada outright from her father, but he courted her with fine verse and lively conversation. And she fell in love and became his wife. They were married for nearly thirty years. She had two children by him, Tiya and Lir’ard. When I was fourteen her daughter Tiya became my bodyguard. Tiya was eighteen at the time. In better times I visited the general’s estate. I found Ada warm and gracious. She was a good woman, she was hospitable, managed the estate for her husband, and big hearted. She did not deserve this. But now we put to rest, now we send her to the afterlife with her husband.”  
Serafine stepped away, into the growing shadows.Tiya lit the pyre. What happened next was chilling, all the orcs howled and keened the sound was inhuman, sad but eerie. They howled until the pyre had burnt down into nothing, the moon and stars were high in the night sky. They passed bottle of Hanoth the strong red orcish liquor. And sang sad songs sometimes in the common tongue, some in orcish. They cried and beat their chests. Everyone that is but Serafine and the general. They had both disappeared. No doubt to talk of rebuilding the empire.  
Tiya was drunk, she knew she was drunk as she stumbled in the dark back to the tent. Her mother was dead, Lir’ard hadn’t left the pyre. He had just stood there. Her limbs felt liquid her head was swimming against hard current. She fell over.  
“Ha! Half-breed can’t hold her liquor!” called a mocking voice.  
She attempted to get up and scowled up- wards. It was Ha’nith, the guard.  
“Shouldn’t you be guarding the entrance of the camp from roving soldiers, you oaf?” She slurred and got to her feet unsteadily.  
“My shift is over.” said Ha’nith said. “Is true what they say about half-breed girls?”  
“No. Shut up.” Tiya said.  
She began to walk away. And then she turned around and stumbled towards him. He smiled slowly. “Maybe it is true,” He said.  
“A little bit. My Mother is dead. I want to forget. You will help me forget, brute.” She said.  
She walked towards him and put her hand on his chest, she stroked it and looked up at him. He grinned. She stood on her tip- toes and kissed him. He grabbed her arm and dragged her off to his tent.  
Darljin had stayed with the Women’s division, they were currently fussing over Mirla and the other children. It seemed many had children in their lives before the war: sons and daughters, nieces and nephews, little brothers and sisters. Eekie was off in thegrove of trees tapping out fat grubs. And he was alone. He missed Eekie.  
He walked into the grove. And almost stumbled over a figure on the ground. It was not a drunken orc as he first supposed. It was human and naked. And it raised it’s head. It had been burnt all over. The skin was black, red and peeling, puss leaked out from the wounds. And opened it’s eyes.  
“They burnt the academy, the students and teachers, but some magic lives,” It croaked. “She... helped me.. escaped the stake, I was in river....my name... is... Renata... I was a sorceress....I have a message...”  
“What?” said Darljin. He wanted to look away from Renata she was to ugly, to sad, he couldn’t look at her and she couldn’t be alive. “Would you like some water? I can get a healer?”  
“Who.. are... you... I must deliver the...message...”Croaked out Renata. “Be yond help.” Her arm dropped and she lay on the ground, still for a long time.  
Darljin went over and poked her. And then suddenly she sat up, her eyes blazing with supernatural white light. Her head turned to towards Darljin and she spoke again. The voice wasn’t the feeble croak it was before it was old but strong and familiar.  
“Who are you boy?” asked the voice.  
“Darljin, who are you? Where is Renata?” Darljin asked.  
“I am Headmistress Benford. Renata just died. I’m temporarily using her vacant body. She got this far though to bloody bad she didn’t make it the whole way. Darljin, you were head of your class weren’t you?” said the voice.  
“Yes, Headmistress” Darljin said.  
“The bastards burned our academy you know. The whole thing. But they never knew of the bunker I had beneath. I’m in the bunker,” Headmistress Benford said through Renata’s body. “The academy and the town that surrounded is four days journey from here to the east. I have enough food for that amount of time.”  
“Yes?” Darljin said.  
“Well go on then! Tell someone with some real authority,” Headmistress Benford said and made a shooing gesture with Renata’s burnt hand.  
The light left the eyes, the body slumped down. And Darljin ran into the camp again.

“--There used to be 6000 in the burnt hand legion,” General Ni’gug was saying. “Now there are less then forty. But we will fight, we will fight for you to to last orc.”  
Serafine nodded. “We will need to marshall more forces and allies: Walkers-in-the- woods, Orcs, humans, sorcerers if there any left and possibly goblins. I already have the Ib.”  
“The who?” asked general Ni’gug.  
“A fish people who live in the vast swamp near Gilden the capital city of the ‘new king’, there are about 10,000 of them.” Said Serafine.  
“That isn’t much,” said Ni’gug.  
“But it will help,” Serafine said.  
Ni’gug nodded. “There may be remnants of other legions around but I can’t contact them.”  
“We will contact them.” Serafine said.  
“Will they fight? they’ve just seen everything they know destroyed. The human legions won’t want to follow you.” Ni’gug said.  
“They’ll fight.” Serafine said.  
There was commotion outside the tent, sounds of a struggle.  
“What is it?!” Ni’gug shouted.  
A harassed guard came in. “Sir, the human girl that came with her Ladyship wants to come into the tent.”  
“Ah, Darljin,” said Serafine. “Let him in.”  
“Him?” said the guard.  
“Yes,” Serafine said rolling her eyes.  
And Darljin came into the tent.  
“Did they just call me a girl?” He said.  
“Yes, but never mind that,” Said Serafine. “What’s the message.”  
“The headmistress of the sorcerer’s academy of is alive. In a bunker, underneath the ruins. It’s four days ride.” said Darljin  
“So Aunt Marah lives! and I bet has secreted away some of those spell books as well,” Serafine said.  
“She’s your aunt?” asked Darljin.  
“Yes, my spinster aunt always wanted me to go into magic, I never was interested.”  
Serafine said. “But her help will be valuable. How’d she get the message to you?”  
And Darljin told Serafine.  
“Oh, how ingenious,” Serafine said. “you can go now.”And Darljin left.  
It was late after the negotiations’ that Serafine returned to the tent she had been billeted in. Tiya was no where to be found. Serafine sighed, she had seen her bodyguard swig the Hanoth with great abandon. The flap opened and Lir’ard entered his face was coated with ash, eyes hollow.  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lir’ard said. “I thought Tiya was here. Do you know where she is?”  
“I can guess,” Serafine said with smile.  
“Could you tell me?” Lir’ard said squinting.  
“I don’t think she wants to be disturbed,” Serafine said.  
“Alright,” said Lir’ard. “I’ll go now.”  
“No,” Serafine said. “Don’t go.”  
She walked towards him and placed her hand on his. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”  
“Ladyship?” said Lir’ard.  
“We know each other, call me Serafine,” She said.  
“Are you sure?” Lir’ard said.  
“Yes.” Serafine said. “And you don’t want to be alone either.” And she smiled led him to the bed.  
And maybe this would chase away the nightmares, maybe afterward to exhausted to dream, she could rest. Somewhere a raven called, she ignored it.  
Tiya woke up the next day her head feeling like it was being hammered on. She wasn’t in her Mistress’s tent, but sleeping alone. The events of last night came back to her in a blur.  
“Ugh,” she said. “I feel awful.” She crawled out of the bed and over to the clothes she had been wearing.  
“You look worse,” said Serafine.  
Tiya looked up. Serafine was standing there, already, dressed, hair up, and as chilly as a autumn morning.  
“Go fuck yourself Mistress,” said Tiya.  
“Your paramour of the previous night is already awake and getting ready,” Serafine said.  
“For what?” Tiya asked groggily.  
“We are going to ride to the city of Nexia or what’s left of it.” Said Serafine. “I secured you a mount. Now get up and get moving.”  
Three of them had horses, General Ni’gug, Serafine and Tiya. Darljin and Lir’ard marched with the soldiers and children. Serafine was on a black horse and she rode side saddle. Tiya rode a rhone and the general rode a pinto.  
As they went down the old empire road, they spied a farm house to the left of the road. As the party came into view, thefarmer, his wife and children ran into their house and took the animals: the cows, the pigs, the chickens with them.  
“Typical,” General Ni’gug said. “We’ll have to attack them, we need the food.”  
“Attack? What like common brigands, I think not my good general.” Said Serafine.  
“It’s the only way, they don’t trust us anymore,” said the general.  
“Tiya, with me,” Serafine said. “Let’s prove him wrong.”`  
Tiya and Serafine rode up the dirt path to the farmhouse door. They dismounted leaving their horses nibbling on grass. Serafine went up to door and knocked.

“Good people, I am Princess Serafine Atra- Nefari, me and my friends need your assis- tance. Please open the door and let’s talk.” Serafine said. “We will not harm you, I promise this just talk to me.”  
There was a shifting of heavy furniture inside.  
“Who did you say you were?” asked a old woman’s voice within.  
“PrincessSerafineAtra-Nefari,” said Serafine.  
“But the Princess is dead, they’re all dead, the ruling family,” Said the old woman.  
“I assure you I am quite alive,” said Serafine. “I escaped Baldrock’s dungeons. And I am here to ask for your help.”  
The door opened a crack, an eye looked over Serafine.  
“You don’t look much like the engravings I’ve seen,” said the old woman.  
“They lie and flatter,” said Serafine.  
“But our eldest Thom was in the capital city saw the princess on durning a parade, wrote she was plain like you are,” The old woman said.  
“How’d your Thom get to Synex city? That’s far from here,” Serafine said.  
“He was in the army, was stationed there once,” said The old woman.  
“What legion?” asked Serafine.  
“The white stag human legion,” said the old woman.  
“That was a very good legion,” said Serafine  
“And he was a Sergeant our Thom, suppose he’s dead now, never came home.” said the old woman.  
“That’s a pity, I’m sure he went to the after life with honor. Do you have a name?” asked Serafine asked.  
“I’m Mrs. Honoria Rennet,” said the old woman.  
“Well Mrs. Rennet,” said Serafine. “Can we partake of your hospitality?”  
“I’ll check with Mr. Rennet,” said the old woman.  
There was a whispered conservation.  
Then she heard a man’s voice. “Nothing bad will happen?”  
“I give my solemn word,” said Serafine. “Nothing will happen.”  
The door opened a cow’s head appeared in the opening. The cow was brown and white. It lowed at Serafine.  
“Wife, move move the cow,” Said Mr. Rennet from the darkness.  
A hand large and rough grabbed the cow by the neck and steered it back into the house. A short man came out he was stout barrel shaped man, with white hair peaking out from under a rough cap. His round face was red with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth.  
“Are you really the princess?” asked Mr. Rennet.  
Serafine boredly proffered her right hand, the one with the signet ring.Mr. Rennet examined the ring. “That’s the Overlord’s ring alright.”  
A woman came out, she had to be in her fifties as red faced and stout as her husband. “It’s her Alf! it has to be, she looks like our Thom said in his letter.”  
“Really?” asked Mr. Rennet.  
“Yes now, quit being disrespectful you silly man and bow.” Said Mrs. Rennet  
The old man bowed and the old lady bent a stiff curtsy.  
After some commotion of being introduced to the little Rennets’ (there were five of them there, more but they had grown or married). And the animals had been moved to the barn and coop. Mr Rennet looked out to the orcs.  
“The east field is fallow,” Mr. Rennet said. “Your men can camp there. We have plenty of ham and sausage in the smokehouse. The wife is getting out the elderflower cordial just for you.”  
“Thank you,” Serafine said. “I’ll tell them.”  
She mounted her horse and rode over to general Ni’gug.  
“I told you it was unnecessary to use force. Just talk will do in most cases.” Serafine said. “They are called the Rennets. They say you can camp in the south field.”  
The general grunted and then turned and order the soldiers.  
For Serafine and her party the Rennet women began to prepare a feast. There was flour to baked into bread, vegetables and meat to turned into stew, and puddings to be steamed. Serafine sat on her horse and watched the soldiers set up camp in the muddy field. In the east field there was raven sitting on the scarecrow, staring pointedly in Serafine’s direction. Also Lir’ard would steal glances at her. Before he had had crush on the Princess, after last night, he was quite sure he was in love. She seemed to ignore him, now hardly speak to him. Neither would the orcs, they still considered him unworthy because he didn’t defend his mother. And the sorcerer was no use he sat with his sleeping Aye- Aye deep in thought.

Darljin was seven when he first went to the sorcerer’s city of Nexia. He remember the great walls of the city, blackened with age and so high. The stone towers of Nexia so proud and tall. The people there spoke an odd dialect their speech infused with magi- cal terms and words from the old tongue. In the center was the academy of magic. It was like a nobleman’s palace if that noble- man’s had been family older then the em- pire and as powerful as a god. It stretched out a city within a city. And he was one of many pupils. A magical prodigy, after teach- ing himself to read at three, he had found the most of books of his great uncle’s li- brary boring. Until he had found an ancient volume of spells. It had taken him a month to understand them, and the looping half numerical, half magical formulas that ac- companied them. After that he began to try them out. Much to the surprise to his maiden aunts and uncle who were raising him. He was given two new volumes of spells for his next birthday hefty tomes it took him a year to get through the first one. He was half way through the second vol- ume when the man from the academy came calling. He impressed the man by making his goblet dance across the table, literally. He made the goblet grow little arms and legs and do a saucy dance. The next day the man sat him down, with quill and parchment and asked him blindingly easy questions about magic and it’s practice. Made him do a few simple spells. Then told Darljin he would have the results shortly. Two months passed and a letter came tell- ing him he had been admitted to the acad- emy at Nexia. At seven when he entered he was the third youngest to be admitted. Usually pupils were ten or twelve when they started. He wondered what the city looked like now after Aidian’s soldiers and Wind- torn’s wizards had been through it. He knew what it stemmed from: Windtorn didn’t like necromancy among other things. He objected to the dead guard. Which was stupid really. The dead guard was about raising the corpses of drifters, and criminals to guard the towns and cities at night a prac- tice that was nearly as old as the empire it’s self. A sorcerer or the sorcerer’s apprentice would watch through the eyes of the dead and order the zombies to defend the city and stop any suspicious activity. It made sense and the people who objected where squeamish fools. He stroked Eekie and thought. He hadn’t quite mastered raising zombies yet. But the basic idea was simple enough, If only he had the formula for it.  
Hours passed. Serafine, Tiya and the general ate with the Rennets. The soldiers feasted in the field and drank the farmer’s beer. The children played with Rennet’s own young children. And Darljin sat in his tent with a quill and parchment and some ink he’d borrowed from the healer and the general. He scribbled down magical formula,which was half numerical, half phrases in the ancient tongue and half magical symbols that meant nothing to anyone but the those who practiced magic. It had been to long since he had taken up the quill. He paused to eat stew and Eekie chewed some fruit. Then by the flickering light of a candle he went back to work.  
Serafine had been given the master bedroom, the Rennet’s had retreated to another part of the house. The eldest daughters had volunteered to be Serafine’s maid servants. They prepared a tub of hot water for her, bathed her and washed her long black hair. The tub was filled with grime when it was over. They dressed Serafine in their mother’s finest shift. And closed the door. Tiya had been standing in the corner the whole time. She watched. Serafine blew out the candle. Tiya lay on the floor by foot of the bed. Serafine lay in the bed wide awake. As Tiya snored and the moon shone bright. A raven alighted on the window sill. It pointed with a wing at the south field. Serafine raised her head and the raven flew away. She got out of bed. Quiet as death she walked through the sleeping farm house. She took two small knives from the kitchen. She walked out to the south field.  
A figure stood silhouetted against the moonlight. It was singing in strange gravelly male voice: “--A thief will just rob you and take what you save a false hearted lover will lead you to the grave---”  
Serafine walked up to the figure.  
“Corvin,” She said.  
“My lady,” said Corvin. Corvin wore black, faded raggedy black suit with a long, long black coat. His hair was black and short. He had queer features a long crooked nose, full lips and almond shaped eyes that were such a deep red that almost looked black.  
“You have proved false to me. I should kill you.”  
“That was nothing.” Serafine said. “And as for killing me, I’d like to see you try.”  
“I’d like to try,” Corvin said moving closer. Serafine pulled out a knife and held it up.  
In a twist, a scuffle, Corvin was next to her, the knife in his hand. She took the other knife and pressed it to his white throat. He chuckled.  
“Don’t laugh, I will kill you,” She said.  
“You wouldn’t,” He said. “Your heart has been mine since you were thirteen and your body was mine at sixteen.”  
“You’ve helped me, given me the signet ring, I am grateful for that,” said Serafine. “But I am no longer a maid, I am no longer to be trifled with,” She held the blade firm at this throat.  
He backed away out of reach of her knife and laughed.  
“My lady, you are mine,” He said. “You can’t escape it.”  
“Yes I can,” She said. “I value your help in this but I don’t need your romantic advances.”  
He drew closer to her, “That’s not what you said my lady, that’s not what you said in the ruined house, when the nightmares beckoned. You said you were mine. You said everything you had or will have is mine.”  
And he kissed her thin lips. She slipped away. She slapped him and brandished the knife. He laughed in her face.  
“I hate you,” She said dispassionately.

“Because you love me,” He said.  
He made a rush at her, she dived at him with the knife. But she missed. And he was behind her. Spinning three times, he was raven and he took off into the air cawing.  
Tiya woke up at the foot of Serafine’s bed, dawn was creeping in through the window. Serafine was already awake, she was standing at the mirror in the white wedding gown, putting her hair up in a bun.  
“Did you sleep well?” asked Serafine.  
“As well as I could on a hard wooden floor,” said Tiya.  
“You snored,” Serafine pointed out.  
“And you disappeared it was around midnight and you were gone,” said Tiya.  
“You were dreaming, I was here the whole time,” Serafine sighed.  
“Perhaps Mistress,” Tiya muttered to herself.  
“We should get going Nexia is three days ride,” said Serafine.  
The Rennets were already awake as well. Serafine, Tiya and the general had a full breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, fried mushrooms, fried kidneys and the re- maining sausages. In camp they fried sau- sages ham and toasted bread. There were four of the children that didn’t want to leave. Serafine and Mr. Rennet agreed that those children could stay. They would be a great help on the farm and a life of wandering wasn’t for them anyways.

As they broke camp, Serafine asked the general if he had daggers she could use. He did, small throwing daggers he had no use for himself. They came with a leather straps and she slipped them on under the sleeves of her gown, adjusted the laces to ensure tightness. As Serafine rode she thought.  
Her mind wandered back to Synex castle that last day. Her mother had taken the last fatal leap. Wolfrick was scowling out the window down at the body that lay there. Some of the soldiers where fighting with Tiya, at the time Tiya was armed with an double headed axe on a long pole. She was using it like a quarter staff to fend off blows. With a growl Tiya charged forward and into the club of one of the soldiers. She fell to the floor unconscious. The soldier raised his club to beat out Tiya’s brains. When Wolfrick ordered: “Leave her.”  
“Why?” asked the soldier.  
“Aidian’s orders, do not harm the servants,” growled Wolfrick. “and the women and children of the Overlord’s family. Only her left. I have to go, must tell Aidian we have this room.”  
Serafine stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by soldiers. They looked at the bodies of her little sibling and sighed. They looked at her and leered.  
“Ever been with a royal?” said one to his comrade.  
“No. But she’s ugly,” said the other.  
“Did Aidian say no harming the women?” said a third.  
“We’re not killing her, and besides look at her, it’s not like she gets it regular,” said The first.  
The soldiers closed in on Serafine.  
“Does it matter if she’s ugly? Never had royal cunny before, have you?” said The first.  
The second nodded  
.“I warn you don’t touch me,” Serafine said.  
“Oooh, she’s feisty! We skewered your father, Princess, your in no position to give orders,” Said the second.  
One of the soldiers came towards her, leer- ing and reaching under his tabor. And staggered back a throwing dagger in his chest, blood well up from the wound. Serafine stood with her her hand up raised.  
“You killed him! You bitch! I’ll teach you!” Said the second and charged.  
Serafine threw another dagger. It found it’s mark the second soldier’s right eye socket. He screamed as the blood poured He slumped to floor. Other soldiers for the hallway heard the screaming and ran into the room. They saw their companions lay- ing dead or dying on the floor and Serafine poised with a third dagger in her hand.  
They yelled, brandishing their swords. They were about to charge. When a youth’s voice rang out loud and clear: “Stop this at once!” They turned it was Aidian, he was standing in bloodied armor the third soldier by his side.  
“But she killed those two,” said a soldier.  
“They were going to rape her,” said the third soldier.  
“I told you take the castle but not touch any of the women,” Aidian said. “We don’t want to become the monsters we defeated. Leave her alone.”  
There was grumbling but they left the room. Aidian sent elves to guard the bower. Most elves think humans are altogether hideous so they didn’t bother Serafine in the room where her dead siblings lay on the floor along with the two soldiers.  
A cold wind blew and Serafine blinked once banishing the memories.  
The sun was just rising over Gilden and Wolfrick walked the battlements of Baldrock castle. He paused by a rotting head on a pike, he considered the dead criminal be- fore him, it was a murderer or rapist of some abhorrent piece of scum. He walked on. There was fluttering of wings, a raven had landed on the head. He turned to look at the raven. Then it opened it’s beak and croaked out:”Wolfrick,”  
“Did you say my name?” Wolfrick growled.  
The raven bobbed it’s head. “Wolfrick.” It croaked. “Princess alive.”  
“Knew it.” growled Wolfrick. “What else?”  
It cawed and flew away.Wolfrick stormed away into the castle. He went first to his own quarters, then into the Wizards’ wing. He distrusted magic, it was shifting and mercurial. Windtorn was an old ally...not a friend... Wolfrick could never to- tally trust anyone who used magic.  
He rounded a corner, went down a flight of stone stairs and opened a door. Inside was a sorceress’s study, bubbling beakers, cauldrons, thick tomes open on every flat surface and a slate with various magical formula in chalk. In the midst of this sat a mousey woman with curly blonde hair and thick spectacles, she wore drab robes and was bent over a parchment scrawling something down. Wolfrick walked up behind her. He cleared his throat. She jumped and turned.  
“Please don’t do that,” she muttered, looking up at him and then down quickly.  
“Sulie, you can do necromancy,” said Wolfrick.  
“Yes, I can, I was trained at the sorcerer’s academy, but Windtorn doesn’t want me to anymore, it’s evil,” Sulie said.  
“You help us defeat the overlord, you worked secretly with us to undermine Ashfate’s enchantment on the blood armor,” said Wolfrick.

“Yes, I did,” Sulie said quietly, as if helping to defeat an evil empire was not something she was proud of.  
“Now you will help me,” Wolfrick said.  
“But I can’t do necromancy, if Windtorn will be so angry, he might decide I’ve been corrupted I don’t want to burn!” Sulie said panicking.  
“You won’t. Will talk to Windtorn myself,” Wolfrick said.  
“Fine, fine, what bit of necromancy do you want me to do?” asked Sulie. “I’ll be safe right?”  
“Yes.” Wolfrick said.  
He handed her a pile of blood stained half burnt rags.

“What do I with these?” she asked.  
“Find out what made those bloodstains. You can do that, right?” said Wolfrick.  
“Yes, yes I can,” Sulie said. Wolfrick turned to leave.   
Sulie spoke again: “Another thing, I was promised my life and gold, for helping you. Where’s my gold? I haven’t gotten it yet.”  
“Women,” Wolfrick grunted. “All you ever want is gold.”  
Sulie looked at his retreating back and sighed. “Not just that sometimes so thanks would be nice as well.”

They had ridden for three days, camping by night. Each night Serafine found a love poem in her tent. They were well written in a careful hand. And called her things like a black swan and ice beauty. She read them, laughed, sometimes grinned a little. Then she corrected the spelling and had a child deliver them back to Lir’ard. She did enjoy the bit about the black swan, and consid- ered it briefly as heraldic device. The city of Nexia approached from this way was under a ridge. A strong wind was blowing, pieces of clouds of ash were blowing around in the wind into their faces nostrils.  
“Darljin wasn’t your Master’s chosen name based on a saying from the old tongue: ‘fata inimicorum cinis est?” Said Serafine as they rode up to the ridge.  
“Yes, it was,” Darljin said.  
“Do you know that’s from a poem by Colous the mighty the first overlord?” asked Lir’ard.  
“Yes.” Serafine said coldly. “I have read all of the empire’s history. As well the first hand account of the building of the empire by Colous’s second in command. The paper was fragile I had to wear gloves.”  
“Ah,” Lir’ard sighed, deflated.  
And now they were looking over the ridge at what remained of the great city of Nexia. There wasn’t much, burnt out husks of stone buildings where grand stone towers once stood. Piles of charred wood and ash where there were wooden buildings. And the academy was nothing more then a vast track of rubble and gravel.  
There was also a soldier a human one, one of Aidian’s sitting eating a some fruit on a rock half way down the gentler slope of the  
ridge. He looked up saw the horses and ran, down into the city.  
“We’ve been spotted.” Ni’gug said. “We will fight, but we will lose, we aren’t prepared.”  
“hmm no, we will win.” Serafine said. “Darljin can you do weather magic?”  
“Yes, what do you want? I can’t make lightening to strike them you know it goes were it wants.” Darljin said.  
“I don’t want that, I want rain, and mud.” Said Serafine.  
Darljin began to chant and make strange circular hand motions, as he did so a black cloud formed in his hand growing bigger and more menacing.   
“Tiya the children like you, get the larger stronger ones to gather rocks.”  
Tiya nodded, dismounted and went to the nearest child.  
“General,” Said Serafine. “Get your orcs ready to fight. Get them behind the ridge, and well armed, come up on my signal.”  
“Very well,” sighed the General.   
“What about me?” asked Lir’ard  
“Stay near the back with Mirla and Eekie, try not injury yourself,” Serafine said.  
“Oh,” Lir’ard sighed.  
The cloud in between Darljin’s circling arms rose higher and grew greater. Until he gently blew toward’s the ridge’s gentlest slope. He hissed one word between his teeth. And with a burst it began to rain, in encom- passed the whole gentle side of the ridge and came down like a flood from heaven. Soon the slope was a muddy, slippery, sticky quagmire. Tiya came back with the children. Each them had many rocks in tu- nics which they had turned upwards into make shift bowls. They dropped the rocks near the edge of the ridge.  
Serafine explained what she wanted them to do and the children smiled.  
From the city up the muddy slope came Aidian’s soldiers. They slid, slipped, and fell in the mud. It caught their boots and some were dragged downwards by what appeared to hands of earth. Serafine looked behind her at Darljin who’s face was white with fury, his lips muttering his arms making pulling motions. Then the children began to shout and throw rocks, each of the seven children had large piles of rocks. Some of the rocks hit, knocking a an enemy into the mud. Two killed. Most did little more then bruise and annoy. There were less then two dozen now. Serafine took out her daggers she threw them, each hit a target one in a neck another in a chest and a third in forehead. There were about 18 or 19 of the enemy now. And they were close. Serafine nodded her head at the children and they fled to the back. The orcs came forward forty of them, swords, maces and axes ready, growling their fury. And so the skirmish began. The enemy fought bravely at first, but as the men began to fall to the orcish horde, some began to turn and run, only to trip and fall into the mire. Then have their brains clubbed out by an orc. And then it was over. The dead and dying lay on the muddy ground. Serafine walked over the soldiers her daggers had hit. She calmly pulled out the daggers and wiped them on the ground. Tiya scowled, the tip of the cheap sword she was using had broken against an enemy’s sternum. And Darljin stood face white with anger, tears in his eyes. There was an enemy soldier laying on the ground, he wasn’t dead. He was bloody and groaning. Darljin was walking passed to him to Eekie.  
“Please help me,” the soldier moaned. “What?” Darljin turned his eyes blazing.  
“Help me, show some mercy,” said the enemy soldier.  
He knelt down to the soldier. “Did you show mercy when you destroyed the academy!? Did you show it when you murdered the children that were studying there?! When you destroyed more then a thousand years of knowledge!? When you slaughtered the people of Nexia?! When you burned the survivors at the stake!?” Darljin screamed.

“Please... please...” the soldier murmured. “I was just... I was just...”“NO MERCY!” Darljin shouted.  
And he muttered words in a strange tongue horrid, awful sounding words that clung to air with a black, greasy malevolence. And the dying soldier screamed and screamed. There were bumps appearing and disappearing under his skin. Blood bubbled out of his eyes. Serafine watched.  
“Tiya,” she whispered. “Take Darljin away and I’ll put the man out of his misery.”  
“What is Darljin doing?” asked Tiya.   
“Making his blood boil.” said Serafine.  
Tiya made a face, half way between disgust and annoyance. “Sorcerers are so melodramatic.”

Tiya nodded went over, put a hand over Darljin’s mouth, she grabbed him around the waist, hoisted him above her shoulder and walked away.  
Serafine walked over to the soldier, and gently cut his throat. The blood hissed and steamed as poured out.  
Wolfrick paced in the hallway outside of Sulie’s study. She said the results would be ready by now. And they weren’t, damn her. The door opened and Sulie popped her head out.  
“Done?” barked Wolfrick.  
Sulie bit her lip, looked away and took a step backwards.  
“Yes, I was able to determine the blood was from someone dead, and I spoke to the spirit,” said Sulie.  
“What did it say?” asked Wolfrick.  
“Quack,” Sulie said.  
“Hmmm?” Wolfrick said.  
“It said ‘quack, quack, quack’ it was a duck,” said Sulie.  
“The Ib lied,” said Wolfrick. “knew the princess lived all along.”  
When Wolfrick burst into his chamber Aidian was seeing his tailor about his clothing for his coming wedding. The tailor jumped and stuck Aidian with a pin.  
“Wolfrick, friend what are you in such a temper about?” sighed Aidian.  
“The princess lives, they lied. We must be swift and brutal, root them out from forrel swamp. They helped her escape.” said Wolfrick.  
“No, no, no!” Aidian said shaking his head. “I don’t want any revenge now. I’m getting married soon.”  
“Hurm,” grunted Wolfrick.  
“I will give you a party to find the princess, search far and wide. Bring her back alive.” Said Aidian.  
“Permission to choose the search party,” said Wolfrick.  
“Fine, who do you want?” asked Aidian.  
“First I want the elf known as Fewyn,” Said Wolfrick  
“The one with the face the trolls disfigured?” asked Aidian.  
“Yes, he is a good fighter, very intelligent.” said Wolfrick.  
“He might not agree to come,” said Aidian. “He’s hates everyone, keeps to himself.”  
“He lost nearly half his face during the elven wars,” said Wolfrick. “He has no love for the empire. He will come.”  
“Who else?” asked Aidian.  
“Rorjorn the goblin killer” said Wolfrick. “Of all the dwarves he knows the underside of empire mountains the best.”  
“Hmmm true,” said Aidian.  
“Sulie the sorceress,” Said Wolfrick.  
“She used to work for the empire, pretty high up I understand. Windtorn hates her. Can we trust her in old empire lands?” Asked Aidian  
“No, but I will watch her closely. So will Windtorn.” Said Wolfrick.  
“You’re not taking the greatest wizard we have on this mission? We need him here, you know.” Aidian said.  
“Sire, they have Ashfate’s apprentice with them, we would be fools if we took anyone less then that. Who knows what dark magic Ashfate taught his apprentice.” Said Wolfrick.  
“Hmmm fine,” sighed Aidian. “Anyone else?”  
“Six soldiers, I will pick them myself,” said Wolfrick.  
“Very well,” said Aidian. “Very well old friend.”  
Aidian sighed as his old mentor left the room. Peace it seemed had undone Wolfrick. Durning the bad times when they were on the quest to fulfill his destiny and destroy the empire, Wolfrick had been like a rock: solid; dependable, and taciturn It was after they succeeded that Wolfrick became ill at ease. Perhaps finding this princess would help. Aidian thought about what he’d do when he found her. If she had honestly been ‘fomenting rebellion and undermining his rule’ then she would have to die. He hoped this was just mix up and nothing of sort had happened. That she was innocent of this. Then maybe they’d find some baron or knight to marry her, give her a small estate out of the way, and let her live a quiet life.  
There were charred stakes in the city of Nexia, where they had burned any remaining sorcerers or suspected sorcerers at least. There were few citizens that still lived in the city. They had emerged like ghosts from the ruins to watch with wary eyes Serafine and her party. Serafine, Tiya, Darljin, the healer and six strong orcs went to the wide and vast track of rubble that once been Nexia’s famed sorcerer academy. Darljin was sobbing, until Serafine told him to pull himself together, he sniffled and dried his tears on his sleeve. The healer cast a spell like a golden web over the rubble. It spread, unfolded and shim- mered until it covered the whole of the track.  
“This spell will detect life,” The healer said. “Anything with a mind and a heartbeat.”  
“So no rats or insects,” said Serafine.   
“No,” said the healer.  
“Jolly good,” said Serafine.  
At the far edge of the rumble under a collapsed column it blazed and sang out in musical tones like that of a harp.  
“There,” Serafine pointed to it ordering the orcs. “start moving the stones there.”  
The orcs nodded and went over to the rubble. They hefted stones and the column out of the way. They covered a few stone steps leading down to a thick plain metal door. The door was locked. Darljin and Eekie were called over.  
Eekie was woken up and with coaxing and the aid a soft boiled egg Darljin had been carrying. They got Eekie to pick the lock. Serafine went to the door and pushed it open. Eekie sat on Darljin’s shoulder eating his soft boiled egg, the yolk dripping down his chin. It was dark, pure darkness just giving way at the edges where the daylight came in through the open door and it had the musty smell of old dry books. The bun- ker was filled with books stacked to the roof. Through the books wound a narrow twisting pathway only big enough for one person to edge in sideways. All the books were spell books.  
“Who is it? Who’s there?” Said a strong, old, female voice coming from behind the books.  
“It’s me Aunt Marah,” Serafine replied. “Serafine? You lived?” said Marah.  
“Yes, I did, I have Darljin with me,” said Serafine.  
“Good, Good,” Marah said. “Keep going you are almost to the end.”  
The pathway widened towards the end of the bunker. At the very end was another door it was open. Inside there was a table and chair. There was a slight glow from a orb of white light. At the table sat a middle aged woman: Marah Benford, known to the world as the Sorceress Oculmentia, head- mistress of the Nexia academy. Her hair was a pale blonde it went down to her shoulders. She was plain, a long nose and an overbite, she wore round spectacles. She also wore long robes of light blue.  
She looked up at them and said: “Took you long enough. I’m down to my last sausage.”  
“Nice to see you to Aunt Marah,” said Serafine.  
“It is bloody good to see you!” said Marah. She got up from the table and embraced her niece. Serafine gingerly patted her aunt on the back. “I’m the last Benford sister left, there were five of us, damn sad. And I’m the last.”  
“My other aunts are dead, and my cousins?” said Serafine.  
“Yes, saw my sisters through this don’t know about your cousins,” Marah said and pointed to a goblet of water on the table. “Saw them all die, Of course Aine died two years ago, still never thought Katrice or Lyda would go and Elspeth what what happened there was---”  
“I know, I was there,” Said Serafine.  
“Yes, yes,” Marah murmured “You were.” And hugged her niece again.  
“Headmistress why didn’t fight like the other sorcerers?” asked Darljin.  
“Oh I did! Was up on the battlements, boy. But they told me I’d be more useful to them alive then dead, sent me down here and packed up the most valuable books in the library. They saved the books as it was burning you know.” She said. “You still have Ashfate’s creature with you. I always liked Eekie.”  
“Yes, I do,” said Darljin.  
“I have some cashews on me,” said Marah said.  
“Bring it here.” Darljin walked over to Marah and she held out her hand. Eekie sniffed the nuts and snatched them up greedily. She petted Eekie’s head while he ate. “You need books don’t you, all that knowledge is nothing with out a book or two.”  
“Yes,” said Darljin  
“Then I’ll help there,” Marah said. “Now I’ve spent to long down here, let’s get out.”  
And they led Marah back out into the sunlight. She took a deep breath and looked around, her face fell.  
“It’s going to take a lot to rebuild,” Serafine said.  
“Yes, I know, I know. Much more then I thought,” said Marah.  
People of Nexia, those that remained had come out to see what the orcs where doing.  
Some began to cheer when they saw Marah. She raised her arms and nodded accepting there cheers.  
“You wouldn’t know it Tiya,” Serafine said. “but according to my mother she used to terribly shy and prim.”  
“Serafine,” said Marah. ”Get your people to move the yellow wooden chest in the back, it isn’t that big.”  
Tiya went back into the bunker and emerged with a painted wooden chest. It was square and had leather buckles and was locked. Marah reached into her dress and pulled out a key on a string. She took it off her neck and handed it to Darljin. Darljin put the key in the lock and opened the box. It contained five heavy leather bound spell books and a sixth book bound in a blackened human skin, that book had a heavy metal lock and chains across it. Darljin touched the sixth book and quickly pulled back as if it burned.  
“Thank you,” said Darljin. “I think, do I need the last one though?”  
“Yes,” Marah said. “I’ve never opened my-self, but I doubt my niece is just larking about. She’s up to something serious.”  
“I aim to rebuild the empire,” Said Serafine. “To bring peace and stability back into the lives of the people.”  
“Very admirable,” said Marah. “You see Darljin, you may need the dark tome. Ashfate had read it of course he taught you spell or two from it I’ll wager. He recommended you don’t try to take it in all at once though. Or you could end up like his last apprentice.”  
“Or my uncle Hurard,” said Darljin.  
“Ah, yes Hurard, I remember him older then me very ambitious though.” said Marah.  
“Then he read the dark tome,” said Darljin. “And went mad.”  
Darljin’s great uncle Hurard had studied sorcery. In the sixth year of his apprenticeship he discovered a copy of the dark tome, it was written in the dark tongue a language so wicked even demons shudder at it’s uttering. Hurard had spent the night reading it. It not only contained spells but something else... something... that drove Hurard mad. Unlike Ashfate’s last apprentice, it was a harmless madness. And Hurard was sent home to his sisters’ to convalesce. By the time Darljin was born Hurard had almost recovered, but for the nightmares from which he woke screaming from and the writing of short stories with obscure three syllable words that always ended with protagonist suffering some awful fate.  
Darljin shut the chest and an orc had offered to heave it back to Ni’gug and his soldiers. Marah and Serafine were talking and walking around the city, inspecting the damage, Darljin joined them. They were having a lively conversation and Marah was gesticulating wildly. Darljin wasn’t much paying at- tention, mostly it: ‘we must rebuild this’ or ‘we have to improve that’  
Until they came to the dead enemy soldiers. The orcs had already been through the bodies and removed useful things like weapons and boots. And made trophies of ears and teeth. Now the ravens were peck- ing at them. And Marah turned to Darljin and smacked him.  
“OW! What was that for?!” Darljin exclaimed.  
“You’re letting these perfectly good corpses go to waste didn’t Ashfate teach you any necromancy?” said Marah.  
“Yes but...we were just getting to it, I don’t remember much of it.” said Darljin.  
“You with your mind like a bear trap?” said Marah.  
“Well a little, I did write out what I thought might be the correct magical formula for raising zombies,” Darljin said. “I don’t know is it’s right.”  
“Let’s test it out, then!” Marah said. “I do have it on me,” Darljin said.  
“Good, good, I’ll raise twelve for a new dead guard, for the city.” said Marah. “ You can have twelve as soldiers.”  
Serafine watched.The two sorcerers had slightly different words and gestures. Darljin read from a crumpled piece of parch- ment he pulled from a sleeve of his robes. Marah recited from memory her arms raised in the air, eyes closed. Marah’s ver- sion included her drawing out a small sharp penknife, making a cut on her left arm and anointing twelve corpses with her blood. Darljin went around spitting on the corpses, something he seemed to relish more then he should. Yellow lightening poured from Marah’s temple out to the twelve corpses a twinkling spark landed on each of them. Darljin’s lightening was purple, and it joined the twelve in a shimmering, sparking, dancing, electric web that bound them to him. The corpses groaned and moaned. They began to rise stiffly, first to their knees and  
then upwards to their feet. They stood at attention, vacant eyes or eyeless sockets staring ahead.  
Darljin staggered back, blinked and held his head, it felt as if something had sucked away something inside him, he was tired and empty feeling.  
Marah seemed fine, she was already giving orders to her new dead guard.  
Serafine stared at Darljin she raised an eyebrow. He looked back at her and then to the zombies he had raised his mouth gaped and he stared astonished.  
“I did that?” He said.  
“Yes,” Serafine said. “Now make them do something useful.”


	4. Chapter 4

Wolfrick sought Fewyn among the elves at Baldrock. He knew that Fewyn was in the city. None of the other elves seemed to know where Fewyn was. Until that is he spoke to Tissit who had been their compan-ion on the quest, at the archery butts.  
“We don’t want him around, his ugliness hurts our eyes,” said Tissit.  
“He is an elf, he should be with the other elves.” Wolfrick said. “When did you judge on looks?”  
“Not just that,” Tissit said. “He is ugly within, the trolls’ acid venom destroyed his soul as well as his face.”  
“Where would he be found though?” Wolfrick asked.  
Tissit sighed and shook his head. “In the two forks Inn, he spends the days drinking.”

So Wolfrick went out into the city and searched for the two forks inn. He finally found it a run down, two story wooden building at western wall of the city proper. It was dim place, a few windows cast weak light that only reached the edges of the inn. There was sawdust on the floor, it stank of beer and piss. Not the place one would usually find an elf. There were few patrons there, playing cards and a large hairy man drinking beer at the bar. Behind the bar was a slatternly girl picking her nose.  
Wolfrick went up to the bar and asked: “Is Fewyn here?”  
“The elf what’s face is half melted,” The girl said. “Yeah he’s here. Left corner at the back.”  
“Thank you,” Wolfrick said.

The back table was shrouded in darkness, but as Wolfrick walked towards it he could make out a hooded figure slumped over a table. There were empty pint glasses on the table.  
Wolfrick sat down next to the figure, gripped him by the shoulders and shook him violently. Wolfrick soon found he had a beautifully wrought elven dagger in his face.  
Fewyn glared at him, from the depths of the hood.  
“Scarred face,” growled Fewyn. “Come to join me in misery?”  
“No,” said Wolfrick said. “I want you help. You are the best warrior of your people.”  
Fewyn laughed. “And what do you want help from someone like me?”

“The princess Serafine escaped the dungeons with two other companions. She will try to rebuild the empire. We have to capture her,” said Wolfrick. “You are best suited for the task.”

“The empire sided with the trolls durning the war,” said Fewyn. ”I was in charge of a raid ing party, we attacked a troll village. A she- troll threw the spider acid in my face. My fellow elves, now recoil in horror when they see me. I am an outcast. My own people hate me. I should be honored by them. I wanted to kill myself, many do so who have the spider acid disfigure them. It is a sin. So I did not.”  
Wolfrick nodded. “So you will join me?”  
“The empire should pay. They should pay for what they did to me.” Said Fewyn. “Does the princess have to be brought back alive?”  
“No.” said Wolfrick. “But Aidian would prefer it.”  
“Accidents do happen.” said Fewyn. “She could be killed as she tries to escape again.”  
“Exactly,” Wolfrick said.  
Fewyn took off his hood. Half of his face was that of a beautiful, regal elf: pale skin, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes and perfect lips. The other half the skin was pitted, skin melted like wax, the lips set in a permanent snarl.  
“I’ll make her like me before she dies.” said Fewyn and laughed.

Wolfrick looked at the hideous visage of the elf, a small tinge of worry sparked in his brain then vanished, he had to do this he had done worse in the name of good.  
Serafine sat in her underclothes in the tent she was billeted in. She was sipping tea. She could hear Darljin yelling at his zombie soldiers, in the magic tongue. Tiya was inside with her sitting and watching as Ella a seamstress of Nexia repaired rips in Serafine’s dress.  
“We are lucky to have you Ella,” said Serafine.  
“Thank you, your ladyship it’s privilege to serve you,” said Ella.  
“No really it’s people like you I want to help,” Serafine said. “You had a life before the war: a sweetheart, a little room and clients.”

“Yes I did,” Ella said. “How did you know,”  
“Observation really, you still wear a miniature of him around your neck. He is dead isn’t he?” Serafine said sipped her tea.  
“He was an apprentice baker,” Ella murmured. “He was putting money by so we could be married, tried to stop the soldiers from stealing it.”  
“Ah,” Serafine said. “Now your little room is gone, you sweetheart is dead, and you have nothing but your skills as needle- woman to recommend you.”  
“Yes,” Ella said.  
“I’ll try to give you back your life, Ella,” Said Serafine.

“But I don’t want to stay here your ladyship,” said Ella. “There is nothing for me here, but bad memories. I understand Headmistress Oculamentia is going to rebuild Nexia, but I don’t want to stay here. Can I come with you?”  
“Come with me?” Serafine asked smiling her thin lipped smile. “of course.”  
“Thank you, your ladyship,” said Ella and curtseyed.  
Serafine put on the gown again. Ella busied around her making minor adjustments.  
They spent two days in Nexia, the former city of magic. Marah didn’t want any help rebuilding she would do it herself. As Headmistress of the academy she had lots of sway with the common people. It took  
two days for Darljin to cast spells over his zombies to preserve them and keep the birds away. He had easily gotten command of them. Now was working on the tricky problem of looking through their eyes to see what they did. Lir’ard left two more love poems on Serafine’s pillow. In two days many of the children had made slings of leather straps and practiced hitting crows with rocks. It was time to go.  
“We’ll take the Northern road into the great forest, I wish to speak to the Walkers-in-the- woods and gain their support.” said Serafine to general Ni’gug.  
The general nodded. “They have little love for orcs. ”  
“But less for elves who are invading the forests.” said Serafine.  
“Yes,” Ni’gug said.

“We will help them,” said Serafine.  
“It will take us two weeks to get to the forest,” said the general. “There aren’t that many of us, how can we fight the elven hordes?”  
“We don’t have to win, just make them uncomfortable enough to leave,” said Serafine. “I understand Aidian’s fiancée Aywin is there trying to secure the forests.”  
Ni’gug smiled.  
“We can use this to our advantage.” said Serafine. “Besides two weeks is a long time from now. Many things will happen.”  
Ni’gug smiled wider. “May fortune smile at us.”

“Fortune will have little to do with it,” Said Serafine. “I will make things happen my dear general.”  
So they began to ride north, towards the great forest.  
“I’ve always wanted to see the great forest,” Lir’ard said to Darljin. “There are trees there that are older then empire itself.”  
“Is it true that Colous the mighty was challenged by the walkers-in-the-woods to do a series of impossible tasks when he went there?” said Darljin  
“Well partly they did ask him to fulfill a ritual series of tasks, but they never asked him to chop down the mightiest tree in the forest with a fish,” said Lir’ard. “That was just made up.”

“Ah,” Darljin said. “I wonder what he would say if saw what happened to his empire now?”  
“He would do what her ladyship is doing,” Lir’ard said. “Try and rebuild. At least from what I know of him from accounts.”Lir’ard looked ahead to where Serafine was riding. He sighed.  
“Do you think it’s wise?” Darljin asked.   
“Is what wise?” Lir’ard replied.   
“Rebuilding this soon,” Darljin said.  
“I think if anyone can do it, it will be her la- dyship,” said Lir’ard.  
“But you didn’t answer,” said Darljin  
“Maybe not so wise. But what choice do we have? Let them leave us in chaos and without hope.” said Lir’ard.  
“True,” said Darljin. “And what they did is inexcusable. They say Aidian is merciful but the rest of his soldiers weren’t. And I heard the elves took no prisoners.”  
Lir’ard nodded.  
Serafine rode calmly, on her right rode Tiya on her left rode general Ni’gug. Ahead there were walking a rag-tag group of people trudging along, they had wheel barrows filled with belongings and had loaded down a mule. Serafine spurred her horse forward and rode up to them. They recoiled and looked down.  
“Please take what you like,” said thin, dirty man. “Just spare us our lives.”  
“I don’t want anything good people,” said Serafine. “Tell me where are you going?”  
“Anywhere, somewhere. Perhaps out of the empire.” said the man.  
“We can’t stay here,” said a woman.  
“Why ever not?” asked Serafine.  
“Soldiers,” replied the man.  
“Aidian left few soldiers,” said Serafine. “I think we could protect you from them.”  
“Not just them,” said the man. “Empire soldiers.”  
“They turned bandit didn’t they?” Serafine said, her gaze like stone.  
“They pillage, they steal, they kill, and rape.  
No where is safe.” said the man. “We can’t live here anymore.”  
“Where are these soldiers?” asked Serafine.  
“The ruins of Clearview castle on the hill,” said the woman.  
“Thank you,” Serafine said. She rode back to the general, Tiya and the rest. “Let the peasants pass.” She told general Ni’gug. The general nodded and shouted orders to his soldiers. “We have our first destination.”  
“Where?” asked Tiya.  
“Clearveiw castle.” Serafine said.  
“That place is cursed,” said Tiya.  
“Nonsense,” said Serafine. “Just superstition.”  
They rode for a day until they came to the riverbank. Where they camped. When camp was ready and everyone was settled. It was dusk. Serafine had asked for volunteers to go with her to clearveiw castle. Ni’gug had asked. Three had come forward.  
“I could order the sons of sows to come with you,” said Ni’gug.  
“No, no,” Serafine said. “This will do just fine. These are enough.”  
“Should I come?” asked Darljin. “Or the dead guard?”  
“No, no.” Serafine said. “If I am correct live empire soldiers will be better then dead Gilden ones.”  
She mounted her black mare. Nodded to Tiya who grumbling mounted her rhone. And they rode off. The three soldiers marched behind.  
“You know the story of Clearveiw? Of the twelve treacherous under-lords?” said Serafine.  
“Yes, of course.” Tiya said. 

“I don’t,” said a orc.  
“Then I will tell it,” Serafine said. “A two hundred years ago, in the time of Ferrus dynasty. There were twelve under-lords which as you know are second only in power to the overlord. They were not happy with their lot. Though second only to the rul- ing family and with men, and land and gold. They were ambitious and greedy these men. So they conspired to overthrow the Overlord. They met in clearveiw castle, it  
was under-lord Sevrin’s castle. A simple guard Mark Black overheard his master’s plans. He wrote of the wicked plan to overlord himself. In a week the Overlord Fer- rus’s troops had come. They burned down the castle, they killed all twelve under-lords in twelve different ways. Mark Black was elevated to rake of baron and his grandson married Georgianna Nefari a distant cousin of the Ferrus family and their son founded the Atra-Nefari dynasty.”  
“Then why is Clearveiw cursed?” said the orc.  
“Because they the soldiers had a necromancer with them,” Tiya said. “And he forbid the spirits of the twelve under-lords to ever enter the afterlife or have any peace. At night they walk the castle.”  
“Rot!” Serafine said. “I’ve read accounts of what happened at clearveiw there was no necromancer.”  
“They wouldn’t put in accounts. Not every- thing that happens gets written down.” Tiya said.  
“Yes but why would they omit it?” Serafine said.  
“Because,” Tiya said.

“Right,” Serafine sighed.  
The ancient pathway to the castle was rocky, overgrown with bushes, saplings, briars and the like it sloped dramatically upwards and twisted and turned in alarming ways. Still Serafine was calm as a river in summer or snake waiting to strike. They were in sight of a ruined battlement when the bushes rustled and seven human soldiers sprang from the bushes. Their swords and pole axes gleamed in the moonlight. They shouted out their triumph.  
“We could take them,” whispered Tiya.  
“Possibly. But why would I want to do that?” whispered Serafine and then said louder: “Is that emblem on your shoulder from the broken spear human legion?”  
“Yes.” grumbled one the brigands  
“Are you all of that legion?” asked Serafine.  
“Where a hodgepodge a bit of this legion and that.” said the brigand. “What’s it matter? give us your valuables and give up your weapons.”  
“We may let you live,” snickered another brigand.  
“Really? Will you test your strength against my orcs?” said Serafine.  
The three orcs narrowed their eyes, growled and clutched their weapons menacingly.  
“There’s more of us at the castle,” said a brigand. “We’ll raise the alarm and you won’t make it out alive.”  
“Perhaps,” Serafine said. “besides I only have one ring.”  
And she proffered her hand so one of the brigands could look at it.  
“That’s the seal of the overlord! How’d you get that?” asked the brigands  
“Stole it from some Gilden butcher after he was done fucking you no doubt.” said an- other brigand.  
“Do I look like a whore to you?” said Serafine calm as the eye of a storm.  
“I don’t know, why did you ride up here and show us that ring?” said a Brigand.  
“I am Princess Serafine Atra-Nefari,” she said.  
“HA! And I’m overlord Fitzcaius.” said an- other brigand.  
“Broken spear? Do any of your command ing officers live?” said Serafine  
“Yes, our leader the colonel.” said a brigand.  
“Take us to him,” said Serafine.

“No,” said the brigand. “I’m not taking this lot with us.”

“Fine, I’ll go alone.” said Serafine.  
“Mistress is that wise?” Tiya asked.  
“No. But I have to do it.” said Serafine  
Serafine rode away with the brigands at her side. The former castle of clearveiw had been converted into a make shift camp. As Serafine rode amongst the ruins, she saw many sniggering, jeering brigands all former soldiers. They were: cooking and drinking over fires, sharpening weapons and watch- ing her progress. There was a guard tower still standing at far left side of the ruins. The open arch way that lead into the guard tower, it had been covered with a blue sheet. A lamp blazed from within, there was silhouette of a table and chair a figure sat at the table. Serafine was asked to dis- mount. She slid off the horse and stood facing the archway, back straight, head raised. A brigand went in and talked to the figure at the table. The curtain swung open and a large, burly man strode out. He had a heavy curly beard. His face broke into a smile.  
“Cousin Finey!” he roared. “How wonderful to see you!”  
“Hello, cousin Bringley.” said Serafine said smiling. “I had hoped you had survived.”  
“I had no hope you did.” Bringley said. “This is spiffing!”  
“Yes it is rather,” said Serafine.  
“I’m terribly sorry if my men caused you any trouble,” Bringley said casting a dark glance at one of the brigand. The brigand seemed to shrink and cower under the glance.  
“No real trouble,” Said Serafine. “But can I have my bodyguard and the rest of the sol- diers I was with come into the castle.  
“Yes, Yes,” Bringley said. “Of course.”  
And he ordered the his brigands to do that. “Come in sit down, tell me how you’ve been?”And they walked into the guard tower together.  
“Not as well I could be,” Serafine said.  
“Well, yes, I understand. The war and all.” said Bringley.  
“You grew a beard?” Serafine asked.  
“Yes it makes me look rather serious.” said Bringley. “Someone not to trifled with.”  
“Hides the lack of chin,” Serafine said.  
“Errr, yes.” Bringley.  
“So I understand you are brigand.” said Serafine.  
“Yes. I have to survive somehow. You know rob from the rich and give to poor.” Bringley said. “Rather noble.”  
“From what I understand your men rob from anyone and keep it all,” Serafine said.  
He sighed. “Well, yes, maybe if we could find some rich people to rob or poor people to give too.”  
“Raping and murdering,” said Serafine raising an eyebrow.  
“Well.... I... didn’t know about the rape, and sometimes you know the people resist. We  
wouldn’t hurt them if they didn’t fight back.” said Bringley.  
“I see,” Serafine said stonily.  
“So err, what have you been up to?” said Bringley.  
“I escaped Baldrock castle where I was imprisoned. Snuck back into the empire lands and I intend to rebuild the empire.” said Serafine.  
“What?!” Bringley said. “That’s mad! We’ve been utterly defeated by those blighters. There is nothing left to rebuild. Everything is in shambles. We can’t try to rebuild from the rubble.”  
“I think we can,” Serafine said.  
“No we can’t. This is only way to survive. I admire your pluck but you’re going to end up dead.” Said Bringley.  
“I’m not,” said Serafine. “You will, once Aidian decides he needs more land he’ll come here and you will killed like the dogs you’ve become.”  
“Perhaps,” Bringley sighed.  
“You can’t live like this,” Serafine said. “I already have forty orcs at my command and dozen zombies. Join us.”  
“Why?” said Bringley. “So we can have our heads hacked off or be strung up, when they discover what we’ve been up to?”  
“By the time they realize what we are doing it will be to late for them.” said Serafine.

“No, it’ll be to late for us. There were sixteen legions four orc and twelve human. That’s over 9000 soldiers and all were defeated.” said Bringley.  
“But not all are dead,” said Serafine.”Your father and mine were friends. Our mothers were sisters. Do you think your father would want to see like this? A mere brigand scratching out a criminal existence until you are crushed like a insect.”  
“No.” said Bringley. “He wouldn’t.”  
“Have you lost your honor? Your father and mine are watching us from beyond. Would you rather die a criminal or die fighting for something noble? Bringing back the stability and sanity to the world.” Said Serafine. “Would you like to greet your father in the afterlife because of an ignominious death? Or go there in glory with your head held high?”  
Bringley sat, he thought and thought. Serafine said nothing. “I will help you. I will rally my men and we will join you.” He finally said.  
“Good.” Serafine said. and she smiled to herself.  
Bringley told a soldier who was serving him to gather the men. There were stairs at the back of the guard tower, Bringley mounted the stairs and motioned for Serafine to join him. Below them, stood Tiya and the orcs, at attention. The men began to gather in a circle around the guard tower.  
Bringley addressed the men. “My friends, my comrades in arms. We’ve been through hell together. Seen everything we know de- stroyed. And now we live like tramps! This  
woman beside me is my cousin, the Princess Serafine Atra-Nerfari. The Over- lord’s own flesh and blood! She means to restore the great empire. To bring us bread for our mouths and roofs over our head. To give us honor again. She will give us glory. All we have to do is follow her, and fight for her! Who will walk in greatness with me?!”  
A cheer went up from the men. Serafine smiled.  
A little while later she went among the men she talked and listened to their stories of battle and hardship. There were men from the broken spear legion, the white stag, red eagle and even her father’s personal legion the thorny bush. There were fifty men in to- tal.  
It was at dawn that general Ni’gug saw the party of soldiers marching towards him with Serafine, Tiya and Colonel Bringley riding at the head. And he began to smile.  
Now that Wolfrick had convinced Fewyn it was matter of getting Rorjorn to join. Wol- frick found Rorjorn at the castle archery butts the same ones he found Tissit at. Only Rorjorn was using throwing axes in- stead of bow and arrows.  
“Yes, what do want?” Rorjorn greeted Wol- frick with customary dwarf brusqueness.  
“You’re help,” Wolfrick said.  
“With what?” Rorjorn asked. “Very busy here, my cousin Bilor might need me still.”  
“I need you more,” Wolfrick said. “The evil overlord’s daughter lives. She escaped Bal- drock, is somewhere in old empire lands.”  
“No doubt building forces against us.” Ror- jorn said.  
“She will enlist the goblins to help her, they had an alliance with the empire,” said Wol- frick.  
“The you do need me,” Rorjorn said. “You can count on me, when we are knee deep in the buggers. I’ll come.”  
“Thank you,” said Wolfrick and left.  
As Serafine rode she thought. Her mind went back, far back to her childhood. She was eight years old, in her father’s chambers at the castle. It was night time, but the chamber would have been dark anyways, for it had no windows, it was lit with torche  
on the wall. They gave a flickering orange light. The walls were bare stone. In the right corner was her father’s desk which was a deep brown, in the middle was a great table with maps and reports on it. She and her father sat in at a smaller table in the left hand corner an exquisitely wrought chess set in between them. She was white. He was black. He was teaching her the game. They sipped water from goblets. Her brow was furrowed in thought, she was losing she knew it. But this was the night she beat her father. They played chess every week, on the third day of the week in the evening with out fail. She took his bishop with her pawn.  
He laughed. “You’re learning quickly my owl,” Then he moved his knight and took her rook which she had been hoping to score a checkmate with. “But not quickly enough.”  
“Oh, Papa! I’m trying, I really am,” said Serafine.  
“I know you are, you are making rapid pro- gress,” He said. “But you have to look at the game, you have to think three moves ahead.”  
“I will Papa,” said Serafine honestly trying to think how she would do that. Back then her hair was in black plaits that circled around her ears.  
And her father was different too, he was still in his prime his body firm, his hair jet. His dark eyes glittering with affection.  
A servant came into the room, looking wor- ried.  
“Dinsdale,” Her father said irritation in his tone. “I thought I made it clear nothing should interrupt the chess game.”  
253  
“I’m sorry my Lordship,” said Dinsdale said in a worried voice. “But your Lady has gone into labor you said to tell you.”  
“Yes, I know,” her Father said. “Thank you Dinsdale.”  
The game grew easier for Serafine, her fa- ther was obviously distracted not thinking now about the moves he made. She thought when she moved, she took risks and pieces. She had him in check when he looked her full in the face and directly in the eyes.  
“Maybe after all these years you’ll have a little brother or sister,” said her Father.  
“But Papa, what about the last time Mama was with child or the time before that? I didn’t get a brother or sister then, Mama just got sick and sad.” said Serafine.  
“That’s what I’m worried about Owl,” said her Father.  
“I know Papa,” said Serafine glumly.  
And he moved his queen and causally took her piece that had put him in check. She frowned. The game went on, they were about even now. Dinsdale came in again, his face was pale as milk.  
“My Lord,” Dinsdale said. “The babe was a boy.”  
“Was?! What do you mean was Dinsdale?” snapped her father.  
“It was stillborn.” said Dinsdale.  
And now her father went pale. “How is my Lady?”  
“She is--- well she’s,” said Dinsdale. “Tell the truth man,” Said her Father.  
“She’s not well,” said Dinsdale. “The healer is worried.”  
When Dinsdale left her father watched the board, hardly speaking moving at random. And Serafine won, she declared checkmate happily then looked at her father’s face. It was pale, wan and there were tears in his eyes.  
“Papa?” asked Serafine. “What’s wrong?”  
“Your mother is sick, I don’t know what I’d do if she died. I don’t know what would be- come of me. I love her.” said Her father.  
“I’d take care of you, Papa,” Serafine said.

“Yes my owl would but----” He put his hand to his face to wipe away the tears. “She is everything to me.”  
“Oh Papa,” Serafine. “I love you. Mama will be alright. She will get better.”  
“Thank you,” her Father said in a voice choked with tears. “But you don’t know that.”  
She left her seat and padded over to him, She climbed into his lap and he held her and cried into her shoulder. She was put to bed after that.  
It was later she learned that her Father went to her Mother’s chambers and kept vigil until she recovered.Fourteen years later Aidian and his soldiers invaded and everything fell apart. The man who loved his wife above all things was stabbed through the neck. The woman who rose from her sick bed with a smile, tum-

bled from a high window to her death. And now Serafine would avenge them.


	5. Chapter 5

At baldrock castle Wolfrick climbed the highest tower to find Windtorn the wizard sitting on the ledge smoking a pipe, his staff leaning against wall. Windtorn had just stepped out the door when Windtorn spoke:  
“Hello there,” Windtorn said. “You want me to join you don’t you?”  
“We need you.” Wolfrick said. “You’re skill is unrivaled among the good magic users of the land.”  
“You’re going to take that wretch Sulie aren’t you? Isn’t she good enough for you?” Windtorn said.  
“No, can’t trust her,” Wolfrick said.  
“You can’t can you?” said Windtorn. “She only betrayed her masters when the price was high enough.”Wolfrick nodded. “And you can’t take any of my pupils?”  
“No. They won’t be able to control her. Also---” said Wolfrick.  
“Darljin right? The boy they found cowering behind a curtain? He was Ashfate’s appren- tice.” Said Windtorn. “And Ashfate taught dark magic, which sees nothing wrong with raising the dead or magical torture, he was taught magic which uses the dark tongue. So he’s a threat.”  
“Yes.” said Wolfrick.“Then,” Windtorn puffed on his pipe. “Thatleaves me no choice really. I’ll have to come along with you and the doxie Sulie.”  
“Knew you would.” Wolfrick said turned to go.  
“If I come they will find out about it,” Wind- torn said. “They may try something foolish and dangerous. Like releasing the dark ap- prentice.”  
“They wouldn’t,” Wolfrick said. “They’d have to be mad.”  
Controlling the zombies was becoming a problem for Darljin if he didn’t recite the spell to control every hour, some would wander off or sit down or worse begin to dance. Darljin could understand the wan- dering off or sitting but the dancing? It had to be a certain character he used in the spell to raise them, which turned on it’s sideinstead of upright meant to dance and he had been sloppy in writing it. The orcs found it amusing and at least they were good dancers. It was late at night and they made camp by a burnt out village. Darljin had put a spell over the zombies to rest. When a human soldier a former brigand named Symon came up to him with a plate of wriggling grubs.  
“These are for your pet,” Symon said and smiled.  
Symon was young, tall and lean with an open face and bristle short blond hair.  
“Oh thanks,” Darljin said and handed them up to Eekie.  
“I was wondering is it true what they say about sorcerers?” asked Symon blushing.

“Is what true?” Darljin asked back confused. The sound of Eekie eating was loud and grub juice was dribbling on his shoulder.  
“That you’re all.... you know...” said Symon blushing further and then whispering. “...Not interested in women...”  
“Oh, that,” Darljin said beginning to blush himself. “Well, we are prohibited from re- producing after the disaster with the Magi- tius dynasty. Some are interested in women, they just keep mistresses or visit brothels. Most aren’t, though.”  
“Oh...what about you?” asked Symon.  
“Me?” Darljin said. “Well I’m to young to have mistress and the women at brothels scare me.”  
“Do you like girls?” asked Symon.  
“Errr....why are you asking?” Darljin said.  
“because well...I’ve always been scared of whores and never really liked any of the girls in my village.” Symon said.  
“Oh! Oh!” Darljin said he blushed deeper. “Well... no, I don’t.”  
Symon smiled shyly. “What about....” and Symon mumbled something.  
“--Boys?” Darljin grinned wider.   
“Yes boys,” Symon said.  
Darljin looked over Symon, smiled and laughed. “Yes I do. And I don’t share my tent with anyone....”  
Symon smiled. “That’s good to know. Where is it?”  
Darljin took Symon’s hand and they walked off toward’s Darljin’s tent.  
It was later that night when Darljin and Symon lay sleeping in each other’s arms. Tiya slept in her bedroll and Ella in her own bedroll. When Lir’ard snuck out of his tent to give his poem to Serafine himself. He was sure if he gave her the poem she would have to accept it, maybe if she looked him in the eyes and really read it, then she’d love him back. He was just in time to see her slip from her tent. He followed her out into the night and to the burnt out village. She stood in the center of what used to be the village square. Lir’ard hid in the doorway of an empty building. A raven cawed and landed beside her. The raven turned widdershins three times. And standing there was a man in black. Serafine went to him, they were speaking to softly to be heard. He put his arms around her. She scowled at him, but did not withdraw. He kissed her and she put her arms around his shoulders and buried her face into his dark cloak. Lir’ard watched anger sparking in his belly as the man lead Serafine into another burnt out building. So she had a lover! All this time, what a fool he was to think he meant anything to one such as her! He’d get her, he’d get revenge for the love that was turning to vinegary hate in his gut. But he’d have to wait until the time was right.  
Sulie had just finished preparing a very delicate potion. When she heard the door slam. She dropped the potion. There was a look of horror on her face as she gazed down at the spill on the stone floor and back at Wolfrick coming towards her.  
“Yes what can I do for you?” Sulie said.  
“Going to find the Princess Serafine. You’re coming with us,” Wolfrick said.  
“I don’t want to go, They’ll kill me if I go back into empire lands!” Sulie said.  
“Stop whining. You’ll be with or party, plenty of protection,” Wolfrick said.  
“I still haven’t been paid for helping you guys,” Sulie remarked.  
“You will get you’re full payment,” said Wol- frick.  
“I don’t really have a choice about coming with you, do I?” asked Sulie.  
“No. You will come.” Said Wolfrick  
“Fine,” sighed Sulie. “When do we leave?”  
“Tomorrow, daybreak,” said Wolfrick.

Outside the burnt out village were two tem- ples. One was made of marble with high fluted columns and a boxy mien. The other was smaller and made from large round gray boulders, it was carved with a motif of triangles that were reddened with old blood. The first one was human the second orcish. The general slowed his horse.  
“Before we go any further, we must pray.” Said General Ni’gug. “We must gain the fa- vor of the gods.”  
Serafine nodded. And colonel Bringley said: “It’s been a long while since I visited the twelve.”

“First we go in, honor all the gods human and orcish then the men can go in,” Serafine said.  
They stopped the horses. The first temple they went in was the human one. In twelve different alcoves, stood the statues of the gods and goddesses. Burnt out candles. nothing more seas of wax with drooping wicks and rotting offering stood on the small altars before the gods. Each god or god- dess had it’s own month and own guardian- ship. Serafine bowed her head. She lit the candles before the chief god Kalus, before the goddess of wisdom U’shtha, The trickster god Jynkon, the goddess of war Y’laia and finally the god of the dead Nortrow. She prayed before each of them, or at least mimed praying. In her heart of hearts she had never been sure the gods existed or cared if they did. And after the war she had more doubts. But her prayer to Nortrow to look after her family in the afterlife was the most sincere.  
“You humans have to many gods,” said Ni’gug.  
“You orcs have to few,” said Bringley.  
“Why weren’t the temples attacked?” Tiya asked. “They burnt the town.”  
“Because Aidian’s soldiers worship the same gods as we, do you think they’d risk angering those gods by defiling their temple?” Serafine said.  
“True, but the orcish temple?” Tiya asked. “I mean they think our gods are demons.”  
“The seven spirits of ill fortune,” said Serafine.  
“What?” Tiya exclaimed. “Humans have heard of them?”  
“Yes, they have heard of the spirits that attack anyone who defiles an orcish temple.” said Serafine.  
“Aidian’s soldiers?” Tiya said. “The same who most likely killed our priests?”  
“Yes,” Serafine said. “You’re people spread that story far and wide.”  
Tiya grinned. “Good.”  
Next they went into the Orcish temple. It was smaller and darker, it felt like cave. There were three crude statues in three alcoves. One of an Orcish man wearing a kilt, one of a naked orcish woman and one of figure in a cloak from head to toe, with only a hand peeking out. The first two figures had no face carved on them. Each alcove had a lamp on the bottom of it.  
“The Father, The Mother, and The Last,” said Ni’gug as he lit each alcove. “They are all the gods we need. Each one has many faces and many roles. No need for so many gods.”  
Ni’gug and Tiya worshipped here. They cut their palms with their swords and let the blood spill onto the altars. They muttered chants in high orcish, an ancient tongue which even most orcs did not quite under- stand.  
Finally they left the temple and let the soldiers and children worship. It was two hours before everyone was done with their devotions.  
The temple was a day and half behind them and they were near the edge of the great forest. They could see the trees and smell the sweet scent of them on the breeze. When the elves emerged from the edge of the forest. They were fair-haired, with high cheek bones and proud eyes. They wore tunics of green or brown and legging of the same. they drew their bows before anyone could think of how to attack them.  
A hail of arrows came down like a deadly rain. Some wounded and some killed. Ni’gug shouted at his soldiers to fight, Bringley told his to have courage, Darljin murmured a spell for the dead guard to at tack and Serafine looked to the children.  
“Get your slings ready and prepare to fire.” Serafine said.  
The children swung their slings in unison, and let fly rocks with wild abandon. The elves seemed to melt into the forest, the stones never found a target. Serafine ordered the children to the back.  
“How dare you send children to fight!” Cried voice from the forest.  
“How dare you be to cowardly to face them,” said Serafine.  
“We are not cowards we are elves and you will die,” said an elf.  
And the elves flowed from the forest many more then Serafine had thought. They met the line of soldiers with a clash, a flash and a clang. The elves were swift, merciless, and strong. Stronger then the humans and almost as strong as the orcs. They moved like flowing water, dodged blows and when they struck their blows killed. Only the dead guard stood fast, mowing down elves relentlessly but even they were having trouble keeping pace. The orcs would brain them with maces but they would shake off the impact and go on fighting. The swords and axes would slice at them but they would keep fighting until blood loss brought them down, usually not before they took down two or three soldiers.  
Serafine scowled. “I didn’t know the invasion was this bad.”  
“And this most likely just a scouting party,” said general Ni’gug.  
“Blast their pointy ears,” said Bringley.  
And then from the nearest tree something leapt, it was the color of bark and had grey dreadlocks flying. It fell on a elven archer. It’s hands were the size of the elf’s head and it had claws which sunk into the elf’s skull. The elf died with whisper. There was a rumbling roar from the forest and more of these creatures leapt from the trees or ran out from the forest. They had axes, they had spears they had clubs, and their claws.  
“Walkers-in-the-woods,” Serafine smiled. 

“What?” Bringley asked.  
“Also known as trolls,” said Ni’gug.  
“Ah,” said Bringley.  
“But don’t call them that,” Serafine said.   
“Right-o,” said Bringley.  
Given hope by their new allies the soldiers fought harder now. The elves were squished between the walkers-in-woods and the Princess’s forces. The walkers and the elves were equally matched. The remaining orcs and humans took immense pleasure in skewering and slashing the elves. When a walker was mortally wounded he’d remove vial of red liquid from his neck and fling it’s contents in the face of the nearest elf. The elf would shriek and cover it’s face, as the liquid smoked and burned melting skin and disfiguring every- thing it touched. This made it easier for the orcs to knock out those elvish brains.  
And when the last elf has his beautiful head slashed open. The walkers turned and be- gan to retreat into the forest.  
Serafine rode up to them. “Stop! We would like to thank you. ” The walker looked at her for a long time and then turned back and disappeared into the forest.  
“We need to talk to you!” She called. There was silence, but the groaning of the dying and the twitter of birds.  
Darljin had stopped his spell, the dead guard stood at attention. He looked at the faces of them remaining soldiers trying to find Symon. They were exhausted and bloodied faces, none of them were Symon’s. He went down among the bodies of dead and dying. And there he found his lover. An elvish arrow through his eye, a look of shock still on his handsome face. Darljin closed Symon’s lips and kissed him for one last time. Darljin wept cradling his dead lover.

Now we return to the tale of Elspeth and Gort. Years passed. Elspeth would come to visit with her mother and sisters. She was growing in beauty every time Gort saw her. He didn’t seem to grow that much, he was stunted and short. The truth of the matter when she came visiting he never knew what to say to her. He just watched her as she talked, laughed and danced. He hovered around the edges and watched her. Sometimes he would find out where she and her sisters slept, he’d go there and stand outside the window staring, wishing he had courage to do something daring. Though he was short, his progress in the knightly arts was swift, for he was strong  
and quickly grasped what he should do. He was knighted at nineteen. Other new knights, sons of nobles and gentry decided to celebrate by attending Lady Pleasent’s upcoming ball. Gort who had just changed his name to the more noble sounding Wolfrick, didn’t want to go, he didn’t like dancing and was shy around the young noble- women who would be attending. But he felt he had to go. He would be the odd man out if he refused. So he went, clung to the wall and the benches. Didn’t dance but watched. Elspeth was attending. She looked so beautiful, she had grown pale, tall and slender with long white- blonde hair. She wore a gown of light green, like the first fingers of spring. All Wolfrick could do was watch her in awe. But he was not the only one who saw her. There was another, a dark, handsome man, who wore a fur cape, and cloth of black velvet with silver brocade. This man, was supposedly the son of a rich merchant. He teased Elspeth, and she returned his teasing with barbed re- plies. They seemed to joust with words. But they smiled as they spoke. And when this rich merchant’s son asked if she would dance with him, she said yes. This lit a spark of anger inside of Wolfrick, clearly, she would dance with this man because she had to, because he was the son of a rich merchant and her family expected her to. During the ball Elspeth had only looked at Wolfrick once. And that look was one of such sadness, and pity that Wolfrick knew, he knew that she must love him. She must.  
“We must go into the forest and seek out the walkers,” said Serafine.  
“That forest is crawling with elves,” said Tiya. “Are you sure going in there is wise.”  
“It has to be done,” said Ni’gug. “We have to gain the trust of the walkers.”  
“But not to many of us, we don’t want them thinking we are invading them as well,” Serafine said. “I suggest myself, Tiya, Darl- jin and the general.”  
Ni’gug nodded.“What about me?” asked Bringley.  
“You stay out here and set up camp,” said Serafine. “With the rest of soldiers.”  
“Where is Darljin?” Tiya asked.  
“Probably crying somewhere his lover was just killed,” Serafine said.  
They found Darljin standing near the mass gave in which the human dead were interred. There were still tears in his eyes. He was stroking the sleeping form of Eekie.  
“He’s dead,” Darljin muttered. “Why does everything I love have to die?”  
“This is war,” Serafine said. “There are people who’ve suffered loses just as great as yours.”  
“But it’s not fair! My master is killed, my magical order is destroyed and now Symon... I thought maybe I could be happy.... again I was for three days... just three days...” Darljin wept.  
“What about the rest of us? Our families are dead or missing, the way of life we lived is gone, Aidian’s soldiers and brigands roam the land. But there is no room to mourn, no time to weep.” said Serafine. “You and I have great work ahead of us.”  
“I don’t want to do this,” Darljin wept. “I never wanted to do this.”  
“Fine then,” Serafine said. “If you see it that way, then don’t come with us and avenge Symon.”  
“Avenge?” Darljin said stirring himself from his grief.  
“Yes, we well likely encounter elves,” Serafine said. “And you can get your vengeance on them for what they did to Symon.”  
Darljin began to wiped his tears away.  
“You’re going stop bawling and come with us?” Serafine asked already knowing the answer.  
“Yes,” said Darljin said resolutely.  
Entering the forest was like entering a world of twilight, the canopy seemed to block out most of the sunlight, it came in flickers and the odd bright spots where there was slight break in the canopy above. They had to leave the horses behind there was no path wide enough for them, in fact there was no path at all. The party stepped over fallen logs and crunched on a carpet of leaves and pine needles. They wove their way past saplings and branches that lay on the ground. Eyes open looking for the walkers or elves. There seemed to be nothing in the forest, not even animals. It was silent and brown.  
“You should tread more carefully,” said Serafine to Tiya.  
“Why what am supposed to fear here, an angry squirrel?” Tiya asked.  
“No, the spiders,” Serafine said. “There are spiders in the great forest the size of dinner plates, with venom that kills slowly and painfully.”  
“Aren’t they the spiders the walkers use for the acid they throw in the elves faces?” said Darljin.  
“That’s right,” Serafine said.  
Something above them rustled in the branches. They stopped and looked up. There was nothing above them but the canopy of leaves. They walked on and on, deeper into the forest. The sun was starting to set. Standing there, bold as brass, leaning on a club was a young troll. The troll had skin the color of bark, a grayish, green- ish, brownish mix. It wore it’s coarse hair in dreadlocks, which were gray with hints of green lichen. The troll wore a pair of breeches of green and a loose shirt of the same, it had been embroidered at the collar and sleeves with tiny blue flowers. The troll’s eyes were deep set under a heavy brow, it’s nose wide and lips broad It’s hands and feet huge. The troll grinned, showing pointed teeth, like that of a wolf.  
“They told me you’d come after us,” said the young Troll. “After we helped crush those elves, you’d want to talk. I’m Kel, me and my merry band are here take you soft ones and the hogs back to the heart tree.”  
“Hog!? Didn’t you learn to respect your elders?” Ni’gug shouted indignantly.  
“My elders, not you. You orcs are like the snuffling pigs,” said Kel with a grin. “You can’t climb, can’t leap, can’t run, you make as much noise as pack of swine rampaging through the forest.”  
“Don’t get to mad,” Serafine whispered to Ni’gug. “It’s the custom for the young to mock strangers.”  
“What did you mean merry band? There’s only one of you.” Tiya asked.  
“That you see now,” Kel said.  
And down from the trees skittered three young trolls, their claws retracting when they reached the forest floor. Four more appeared from the surrounding forest. Their movement making them suddenly visible. Not all were dressed as Kel, half were fe- males with shaved heads and dresses of dun cloth that came to their knees. They laughed and talked in their own language and broken versions of the common tongue. They had daggers, spears and clubs. Though some of the trolls were clearly very young, one was smaller then the club she carried with pride.  
“So soft ones,” said Kel. “We are going to the heart tree.”  
It grew dark quickly in the forest. The night chorus of insects and tree frogs began to chirrup. Strange lichens and mushrooms glowed. And there were pinpricks of flashing shimmering light from flying insects.  
“How is it you speak the common tongue?” Serafine asked Kel as they walked.  
“I used to work in a human logging camp, before the war,” said Kel.  
“You allow logging here?” Darljin said.  
“Yes, around the edges of the forest,” Kel said. “I don’t know much about it though our  
headwoman does, she helped sign the treaty with the empire.”  
The trolls or more properly walkers-in-the- woods, didn’t have a fence of any kind around their home. And began with a crude ladder up a tree leading to treehouse or in the giant trees of the forest a door cut in the trunk, a hole for smoke to come out, and a small coop for chickens or pile of logs by the door. As they progressed the dwellings grew more numerous and above them and around them were trolls talking with odd clicks, doing chores, tending animals and children. There was a eerie blue glow like that of mushrooms here.  
“Mushroom powder,” said Serafine. “Ingenious way to light the streets.”  
“Thank you,” said Kel.

The city of the trolls was spread out in a web or like spokes of a wheel. When they finally reached the heart tree they knew it. It was the giant among giants. An ancient thing vast and old. It glowed blue from all the mushroom powder rubbed on it. In the branches were at least the dwelling for more then twenty troll households. There was small door at the base of the trunk where the mossy roots twisted and wove. It was covered by cloth. There was old and bent troll standing by the door way.  
“Which one is princess?” asked the ancient troll in deep voice.  
“I am,” said Serafine.  
“Follow only you,’ commanded the old troll.”Take you to headwoman.”  
And Serafine followed, him into the door of  
the tree. The inside glowed like daylight, it had marked with a pattern of handprints, bright, glowing blue and green handprints of many generations of trolls. And a crude steep spiral stairway wound it’s way, up and up and up along the wall. The old troll mounted the stairway.  
“Follow,” he croaked out the order and began to make slow progress up the stairs of the heart tree.  
Serafine took one step upon the stairs and followed. As they climbed higher and higher, the glowing handprints became fewer and fewer, the stairway was darker and darker. Finally after they reached a doorway. The old troll went in first, after a few seconds he came out and beckoned with one finger for Serafine to enter as well.  
Sitting crossed legged in the dimness was an old trollish woman. Her skin was a sagging web of wrinkles, her naked head shone, her features deeply etched in her skin. She stared at Seafaring with eyes as green as moss and as sharp as daggers.  
“I am Elbara the headwoman for walkers-in- the-woods, daughter of Fitzcaius.” The headwoman said her voice husky and cracked with age.  
The old male troll left.  
“I am honored to meet with you,” said Serafine, her voice dripping with courtesy.  
“Honored? Is that what you say to everyone, girl?” said Elbara.  
“It’s sincere, “ Serafine said. “I do mean it, I enjoy meeting with leaders of the other races.”  
“You want our help, don’t you for your new war, your empire,” Said Elbara. “Why? the elves have slaughtered the smaller settlements and they grow in number to kill us.”  
“Together we can defeat all our enemies,” said Serafine. “My grandfather leant aid to your people thirty years ago, it’s time you helped us.”  
“So that’s it is it? We we’re being massacred, my own family killed by merciless elves. And when we asked for help they extracted from us such a bargain, the edges of the forest for men and orcs to chop down. And we wouldn’t kill any men who trespassed on our homes, as we did before. All for what? You pushed the elves back for a mere thirty years, that’s a third of a lifetime.” Said Elbara,  
“You were considered citizens of the empire,” Serafine said. “It was your due.”  
“The empire, bah! I spit and piss on your empire! We have never been members of your empire! We are citizens of the great forest.” said Elbara.”We owe the empire nothing.”  
“So this is your true face, when you were helpless you cried and wailed for us to come save you. And now that you can do the same for us,” Serafine said scowling. “You show your true face. I was hoping for your help. I could help you, I bring a sorcerer with me.”  
“Magic?” Elbara said. “Our race was never gifted with the ability to do magic.”  
“I know,” said Serafine. “And elves disdain it.”  
“Now you have my attention,” Elbara said grinning. “Now you have my interest.”  
“With his magic we could make elves fall like leaves in autumn.” Serafine said.  
“Yes we could,” Elbara said. “But you have to pass one more test.”  
“Test?” Serafine’s eyes narrowed and she realized what Elbara meant. “No, I don’t. I’ll go back to my men and let you be slaughtered.”  
“You won’t make it out of forest alive,” said Elbara. “We won’t touch you of course, but the elves will. They will hunt you down and kill every last one of you.”  
“I don’t want to take this test,” Serafine said. “I don’t want to drink from the cup of dreams.”  
“Oh but you must, Princess, you must,” Elbara said. “I will keep your secrets safe. If you survive the night or not. If you are strong enough to brave the cup of dreams, then we will be your allies Princess and your friends.”  
And from the darkness Elbara produced a cup, it was made of river clay and carved with dancing figures. She handed it to Seafaring. The liquid inside was a dark blue, thick, viscous and smelled of strange herbs. Serafine knew it was made with strange herbs, the walkers never revealed what they put in the cup of dreams it was rumored to contain venom of a snake among other things. Elbara watched her intently, there would be no spitting out this liquid or spilling it as she had hoped. Serafine looked into the depths of the opaque liquid sighed and drank. It was bitter, cold and it slid down her throat in a nasty way, that would make a lesser woman gag. At first there was nothing, Serafine smiled. So the cup of dreams was just a silly test to drink something nasty, just one of the walker’s infamous pranks. She took a breath and the walls began to pulse. Even when she closed her eyes she saw them pulse and shiver each pulse was different bright color. The colors began to swim and swirl. Each color had it’s own meaning and own language which she could only guess at. They made sounds like out of tune musical instruments. BLUE, YELLOW, GREEN, RED, ORANGE, VIOLET. She could taste them and feel them on her skin. Suddenly she saw her father, his eyes empty sockets, his neck bearing the stab wound that killed him.  
“Owl,” Said her father said. “You have much to do.”  
“I know Papa, I know!” said Serafine.  
Her father’s face melted into a skull, and that disappeared in puff of laughing smoke. Then her mother’s face rose up, she was crying tears of blood, Serafine reached out to touch her Mother, but her hand passed through. There was Synex castle burning and melting. Serafine tried to escape the images, she closed her eyes but they were still there! She got to her feet, but the floor had become a quagmire of clinging mud. She almost screamed and tried to run, but the floor rose up around her and she fell. She closed her eyes, her body was shaking with strange tingling numb sensations. The dead came back, they spoke to each other. It was like she could see everyone in the empire who had died at the hands of Aidian’s soldiers. And the gods! The gods were laughing, she was among themand they were laughing at her folly. Throwing dice and drinking, not caring. She wanted to rip them apart, and when she  
tried to, she found she was tiny and they could easily crush her like an insect. Her fate was to be defeated and die by Aidian’s hand.  
“NO, No, NO!” She cried out.  
Her pulse was racing, her hands were shaking and she was curled tightly on the floor. She wouldn’t let it happen, she wouldn’t give in, gods be dammed! And their pet Aidian! She would fight them. There was man standing in the corner of the gods’ palace. He beckoned her close. He was dark and handsome like her father, like her lover Corvin. He smiled at her, he had the blackest eyes. He took her hand. And danced with her into the darkness. But his face was a mask, the body just a shell. And she knew what she had to do, she had join with him. For the empire, for the survival of herself. He smiled at her, and kissed her forehead.  
On the wooden floor, Serafine’s body stopped shaking, she stopped muttering in her delirium, and she slept.

It was silent trip across the river for Wolfrick’s party. Fewyn brooded under his cowl, Rorjorn the dwarf sat sharpening his axe, Wolfrick was quiet as the dead, Windtorn puffing on his pipe, Sulie worrying and twiddling her thumbs. They landed at the abandoned fishing village. Wolfrick leapt out onto the shore, Windtorn moved like an old man, leaning heavily on his wizard’s staff. Rorjorn took cautious steps Fewyn shuffled and Sulie walked like a lady who was put upon. And she was just that. In the square of the fishing village was the remains of a pyre. Wolfrick sniffed and poked at the pyre.  
“Well?” asked Fewyn.  
“It stinks of orc,” said Wolfrick  
“We’re they here?” asked Rorjorn  
“Empire villages mix the races,” Wolfrick said. “Human and Orc, half blooded abominations who have no loyalty to anything but the bloody empire. They are everywhere”  
“Humans are tainted by orcish blood,” Fewyn said. “Elvated by Elvish.”  
“Our people despise such mixing of the races,” said Rorjorn. “That’s why went to live under the mountains.”  
“Sulie,” ordered Wolfrick. “Can you get any information from the remains? Conjure the spirits of the dead orcs?”  
“No,” Sulie admitted. “Their spirits have passed beyond my reach.”  
“We don’t need her necromancy anyways,” Windtorn said gruffly. “I’ve searched the houses, there is evidence of recent activity, cooking fires put out and beds that have been slept in.”  
“How long?” asked Wolfrick.  
“A month my friend,” Windtorn said.   
“Hrmmm,” Wolfrick furrowed his brow. “That’s a long time,” said Rorjorn.  
“Not long enough for us not to catch up,” said Fewyn. “And when we do they will be very sorry.”  
“We will take the princess,” Wolfrick said. “The gods want it, I am an instrument of their will.”  
He spoke the last sentence with such steadfast conviction, that it frightened Sulie. Wolfrick, Fewyn and Windtorn found the trail the princess and her party had left. They followed it out of the village.  
“This is just like old times,” Windtorn said to Wolfrick. “When you and I roamed the three kingdoms fighting monsters, demons destroying raiding parties of orcs.”  
“Yes,” grunted Wolfrick.  
It was after one those battles with a bunch of orcs that they had decided to end it. The three good kingdoms had been plagued by the empire which sat on it’s borders like a curled snake dripping poison for long enough. The two allies for Wolfrick never liked Windtorn well enough despite all they had shared, discussed how to topple the empire. Windtorn ever the scholar knew of a dynasty the Asrichans that had been toppled in a war with the empire two hundred years ago. The tiny kingdom they ruled was now empire lands.But there were rumors that the younger brother of the heir had been secreted away to the three kingdoms. Their were accounts of the justice, honor, mercy and fierceness of the Asrichans kings, that their kingdom was prosperous and peaceful. If they could find a descendant of this proud line then they could unite the three kingdoms and good races against the empire. It was lucky they just happened to find one.  
It was noon of the following day in the great forest. There was meeting inside the heart tree. Serafine sat calm as the eye of the storm, her father would be proud she was as he wished the finest flower with the sharpest thorns. Tiya sitting by her right arm, impassive as if she had been carved of stone. Darljin was at her left, his face pale from lack of sleep eyes red from weeping. Ni’gug behind, and in front was Elbara and a three other troll elders. Elbara was smiling her sharp teeth flashing white, she was clapping her hands with joy.  
“Princess, you are as cunning as they say,” Said Elbara with a laugh. “Just one thing how are we going to accomplish it?”  
“I have a plan for that.” Said Serafine.  
Near the Northeast corner of the great forest was a small settlement of Trolls. It was far, from the heart tree and closer to the elves encampment then was comfortable. The adults of this settlement were always on edge and the children never played farther then eye sight from it. the headman was happy when he saw a party of his own kind coming towards them.

Most of the party non troll didn’t understand the chirps and clicks of Troll dialogue that were exchanged between Elbara and the headman of the settlement. Serafine herself only caught snatches of it. They talked of the weather, the movement of animals, and the direction of the wind. Finally the headman asked about the strangers in their midst, the humans and orcs. Elbara told him the plan and asked if they were sure about a war party of elves coming their way. Yes, it was just a matter of time before the Elves came. The neighboring settlement to the west had been attacked there were no survivors.And Did Aywin, elven the princess come on these war parties. Yes, she did always.  
Elbara related all of this to Serafine.  
“So what we do now is wait and prepare for the Lady Aywin to come,” Said Serafine.

She nodded to Darljin and Ni’gug and they followed her and the Walkers into the settlement’s heart tree.  
“What about me, Mistress?” Tiya asked.  
“Your services aren’t needed, now.” Serafine said. “Find us somewhere to stay.”  
Tiya grunted and watched the retreating backs of Serafine, Darljin and the rest. None of the walkers spoke the common tongue here as far she could tell. There was a Walker girl about ten or eleven summers old, staring at her intently.  
Tiya stared back. “What are you looking at?”  
“You, you look funny,” said the girl. “I’ve never seen a human like you.”  
“You helped in the logging camps didn’t you?” Tiya asked.  
“Yep, I fetched water for the loggers,” said the girl.  
“There were none like me?” Tiya asked.  
“Nope,” said the girl.  
“That’s because I’m half-orc,” said Tiya. “You’ve never seen an orc?”  
“No,” The girl nodded. “I’m Lalela what’s your name?”  
“Tiya,” She said.  
Lalela laughed. “That’s an a funny name.”

“I think your name is funny too.” said Tiya.  
“Well then we’re even aren’t we,” Lalela said.  
“Perhaps,” said Tiya. “I was wondering could you get a place to stay for me and my friends?”  
Lalela ran off.

“So much for that.” Tiya sighed.  
A few mintues later Tiya felt a tug on her hem. It was Lalela again.

“I talked to my Mum,” said Lalela. “You and the human woman can stay with us.”

“Which human woman?” asked Tiya.

“The one that looks like a heron,” said Lalela. “The other human isn’t a woman. He’s going to stay with my Uncle Geal.”

“You’d be surprised, who mistakes him for a woman.” Said Tiya.  
“Really?” said Lalela. “That’s so silly! He smell like a boy.”  
“How do boys smell?” asked Tiya.  
“You know... male...” said Lalela. “You orcs don’t know how males smell?”

“No, we usually look at someone to tell if they man or woman,” said Tiya.

Lalela began to laugh, long and loud. “That’s so strange! Who ever heard of that? Just looking, that’s hardly knowing!”  
“Humans don’t do it either,” said Tiya.

“Really?!” said Lalela and giggled. “Even if I grew my hair into dreds and wore breeches my everyone could smell I was a girl!”  
“So where are we staying?” Tiya asked.  
”My house of course!” said Lalela. “Elbara is staying with the Headman, they are cousins true cousins on the mother’s side. And the old one- that looks like boar--- is he an orc?”  
“Yes, pure orc.” said Tiya.  
“Wow! He’s staying at the Elder tree it’s very wide and low to the ground, the elders can’t climb like the we can,” said Lalela speaking rapidly. “When your talons get brittle as bark and your bones ache and your skin wrinkles... you have to live there... also I heard your teeth fall out! It’s horrible! I’ll never get old!”  
“You don’t want to grow up?” said Tiya.

“Oh yes I do! But I’ll never get like that. I’ll find a way to keep myself from growing old... there must be some way... I heard in the east far away there is fountain which the rulers drink from and they live for a thousand years and never grow old! I’m go- ing to go there and drink from that fountain!” said Lalela.  
“You heard this from the loggers?” said Tiya.  
“Oh yes! They knew so much!” said Lalela.  
And she began walking off. Tiya stood there.  
“Aren’t you going to follow me Tiya?” asked Lalela.  
“Of course, now about that fountain I heard of it too, but it’s heavily guarded.” said Tiya.  
“Oh! I’ll get around them, I’m very smart, and fast and I have talons and club my brother made me!” said Lalela.  
“Alright,” Tiya laughed. “When you go there bring some back for me.”  
Lalela talked a lot and rapidly, her subjects ranged from the deer hunt to her house and her family. She talked of fantastical things with the conviction that they were real, and real things with a gloss of superficiality.  
“My cousin was killed by elves, I will avenge her, you know. The elves are stupid and mean!” said Lalela. “There once was a logger you used to sit me on his knee and tickle me in funny places. That logger Bern used to say he’d marry me when I was grown, but I’d say no... because humans are ucky. But after I told George, man in charge of the logging camp, Bern didn’t anymore... it was strange I liked sitting on  
his knee but I didn’t like the tickling...I really like the winter.. we get to eat snow instead of drinking plain old water! And eat lots of jerky! I love venison jerky! OH! Here we are!”  
And they stopped in front of a large grey and moss covered tree. It looked like every other Walker house that Tiya had seen. Immedately Lalela scampered up a crude ladder nailed into the trunk of the tree. She looked down at Tiya.  
“Are you coming?” asked Lalela looking down.  
Tiya attempted to climb up the tree, but her thick fingers couldn’t grasp the narrow planks. Narrow planks which found couldn’t support her weight. And she tumbled down to the ground. The whole Walker settlement erupted in laughter. Lalela climbed down the trunk again, trying to stifle her giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”  
“Is there any other way into your home?” Tiya grumbled as she got up from the ground. Tiya brushed off her clothing and hair.  
“Yes of course,” Lalela said.  
And she showed Tiya a crude doorway cut in the base of the tree. Tiya had to stoop to get in. But inside she straightened up. The inside of the tree was lit with the orange glow of a fire, in a stone hearth that was less made from labor’s contrivance then it was from nature’s forms. A clay pot simmered over the embers and a hole cut in the trunk let the smoke escape. There was strips of meat on a metal hanger, hanging of the smoke, drying and soaking up the smoke. There were herbs hanging from the ceiling and dead animals, ducks, rabbits,  
pheasant and a goose. Shelves against the wall contained clay pots of various sizes. Which were also on the floor. There was a trollish woman, staring at Tiya with green eyes like her daughter’s her head glistening with sweat. She spoke to Lalela in sighs, creaks and clicks.  
“My Mother says you are welcome here,” said Lalela translating.  
“Thank her,” said Tiya.  
Lalela clicked and creaked and sighed back to her mother. The Mother nodded.The trollish woman clicked and creaked and pointed to a steep staircase carved into the far side of the tree.  
“Is that how we get up to the second level?” Tiya asked.  
“Yes,” Lalela said.  
So they went up the stairs. They found themselves in a rather large tree house. in the far corner there was a neat stack of bedrolls. The whole place had the oder of pine. Tiya looked up, above them were sachets of drying pine needles. Tiya’s head brushed againist them.  
“Thank you,” Tiya said. “This will do.”  
Lalela took her hand and dragged her over to a spot where the wooden boards didn’t quite come together.  
“This is where I sleep, I can see the stars from here.” Lalela said.  
“Doesn’t the rain come through there?” asked Tiya.  
“I just shift away from the rain,” said Lalela. She grabbed Tiya’s hand again. “Come on! I have loads more to show you!”  
And they went down the stairs and out into the settlement.  
It was getting on to twilight now. Serafine, Tiya and Lalela were enjoying a meal provided by Lalela’s mother. Ni’gug and Elbara were reminsicing about the Elven war. And Eekie was beginning to stretch and stir on Darljin’s shoulder. Geal the walker had been generous with his hospitality. But nei- ther Darljin or Geal spoke the same tongue. Geal brought him a glowing satchet of mushroom powder and a bowl of the veni- son stew and they had been eating and some fruit for Eekie. Though the children were curious about Eekie Darljin’s forbid- ding mien warned them off. Darljin spent his time alone above the family in the sleep- ing quarters with his books. He was looking  
for spells to stop the Elven assault they ex- pected tomorrow. He reached inside the robes he was wearing and pulled out a a finely wrought chain and on the chain was a key. He used the key to open the lock on the Dark tome. He began to read. The words swirled in his mind each as horrible as the spells they formed.  
A few days later scouts reported the elves coming to the settlement. it was indeed a raiding party and Aywin was among them. She was dressed in plain green and brown. None of the finely wrought elven gowns or jewelry. She was on horseback. When Serafine heard this she nodded, pleased. The walkers prepared for battle sharpening axes and claws.


End file.
